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ANNIS WARDEN, 

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A Stor)^ of Real Life, 



JTJLTA FLAMDER WHEELOCK. 

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A surer course impart; 

So truth, when winged by fancy light, 
May sooner reach the heart.” 


REPUBLICAN PRINT, 

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COPYRIGHTED IN THE YEAR 1882 
BY 

JULIA FLANDER WHEELOCK. 
All Rights Reserved. 






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THIS BOOK 

IS 

LO VINGL V DEDJCA TED 

'I'O 


THOSE WHO MOST I.OVE ME. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. PAGE 

I. — Off to the War, i 9 

II. — A Fire, 18 

III. — The Mansion. 23 

IV. — 'I'he Moonlight Promise, . 26 

V. — Events, 35 

VI. — Agnes Welch, 47 

VII. — The Journal, 56 

VIII. — Annis as a Teacher, 66 

IX. — A Home in the City, 76 

X. — In Colorado, 86 

XI. — Items or Annis’ Poems, 94 

XII. — 'fhe Return,.. no 

XIII. — A Conference, 122 

XIV. — An Invitation 130 

XV. — 'I'he Meeting 140 

XVI. — A Rival Friend, 156 

XVII.— Will, 163 

XVIII. — Education, 169 

XIX. — The Proposal, 184 

XX. — A Letter to Agnes, 194 

XXL— The World's Fair, 198 

XXII. — Our Trip up the Hudson,. 215 

XXIII. — A Sketch from Annis’ Journal,.. 226 

XXIV. — The Announcement, 239 

XXV.— A Wedding, 248 

XX VI. — Mrs. Harwood’s Journal,.. 253 

XXVII. — A Lettei From Burmah, 261 

XXVII 1 . — Letters, 265 

XXIX. — Sketches, 281 

XXX.— -Conclusion, 292 


PREFACE. 


My preface is simply to .i^ive my object in writing. My 
aim in life is improvement and benefit to the human family. 
Being a wife and mother, I can speak to comparatively a 
few, except through the medium of the pen. 

Therefore, I write, hoping to reach many and to say some- 
thing that shall do some, if not all, good. 

Having trusted Jesus to aid me in the arrangement, I still 
trust Him to use it for His own Glory and good to His 
creatures. 

J. J. F. Wheelock, 
Mannsville, Jefferson County N. Y.^ 






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CHAPTER I. 


OFF TO THE WAR. 

“ Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 

Some boundless contiguity of shade. 

Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 

Of unsuccessful or successful war, 

Might never reach me more! ” 

— Cowper . 

u 'T'HIS is a most delightful morning, Anna,” said Franz 
^ Ausman to his wife, one lovely May morning, A. D. 
1813. “I think I shall put in a good day’s work to-day,” 
he continued, “so I hope you will have breakfast by the 
time I have finished milking.” 

So saying he left the house, and as the weather was warm, 
proceeded with bare feet to the pasture. 

The above conversation took place at the home of Franz 

Ausman, situate in the town of P . 

Mr. Ausman was a tall, square shouldered man of twenty- 
five, with a strong will and great activity. 

Mrs. Ausman was a gentle lady of medium size. Both 
she and her husband were of German ancestry but were 
reared in the Mohawk Valley. 


lO 


OFF TO THE WAR. 


Herr and his frau were married young, and immigrated to 

P from the town of Minden, Montgomery county, in 

the year i8ii; bringing with them two bright, Active, little 
boys by the name of Andrew Jackson and Franz Jr.' 

Since making their home in the new lands of P , 

dame fortune had given them another charge in the form 
of baby Maggie; so at the time of their introduction to our 
readers, they had three children. 

As our beloved country was, at that time, suffering from 
British outrages, and war seemed inevitable, a band known 
as the “ minute men ” had been organized. 

These men were obliged, in case of emergency, to start 
at the instant of warning for the place to which they were 
ordered. 

Herr Franz was just returning from the pasture, when he 
saw an officer on a bold charger, dashing along the road at 
a fearful rate. 

Being a minute man, he anticipated the order, which was 
shouted by the officer as soon as he was within hailing 
distance. 

“ Hie to Sacket’s Harbor, with all possible speed. The 
British are there !” 

Instantly he obeyed. No time to dress his feet, no time 
to say farewell. But, with a love of country and home to 
bear him onward, he alternately walked and ran until, with 
feet bleeding and sore, he reached B — -^e; entering a shoe- 
shop he purchased a pair of shoes, placed them on his 
aching feet and hastened on to Sackets. 


OFF TO THE WAR. 


II 


Having traveled on foot fourteen miles without tasting 
food since the previous day, Herr took his place among the 
fighting heroes of that battle, to assist in the defense of his 
loved home and cherished family. 

To poor Anna the day was fraught with labor and anxiety. 
She attended her household duties, took care of the children, 
looked after the forsaken cows, and all necessary out door 
work with care and precision; but ever and anon, her heart 
gave a great thud, then almost ceased its beating as the 
booming of the guns fell on her listening ear. 

Their home being located on one of the branches of 
Black River, the sounds plainly echoed along their liquid 
depths and she was continually reminded of the progress of 
the battle. 

Night came but it brought no rest to the frau of Ausman. 
Weary with the cares and excitement of the day; anxious 
lest her husband should never return and worn by the severe 
tension of her nerves, she could not but indulge the gloomy 
thoughts, which recurred with each successive boom of the 
guns. 

“ Perhaps,” she would say, “that discharge sent my Franz 
to his eternal home. Perhaps he is dead before this and 
perhaps he is wounded and dying.” 

Then in the agony of despair and uncertainty she would 
cry out, “ Oh Franz ! what shall I do ?” As if to mock her 
grief, silence alone replied. 

Before her arose the phantom of helplessness and she 
realized, to the fullest extreme, her absolute inability to 


12 


OFF ro THE WAR. 


assist or protect her loved ones, and felt that life’s cares 
were overwhelming. 

But, just then the ministering angel of mercy spoke to 
her, and she felt rather than heard, the softest, gentlest 
whisper, as the breathings of a zephyr, and she caught the 
words “Come to me.” 

And she knew its meaning and remembered the passage, 
“ Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest.” 

There, in the twilight of a May evening, Anna Ausman 
poured out her soul to God, in prayer. The Father and 
Protector of All, the Author of all good, heard her plead- 
ings, and there according to the promise of Jesus, she re- 
ceived the Comforter; even the Spirit of truth, whom the 
world could not receive because it saw him not, neither 
knew him. 

And with the Comforter came Peace, such as the world 
could not receive because it received not its author. 

Anna was a believer in the plan of salvation, and had ac- 
cepted Christ as her Savior, but like the most of us, at times 
forgot the admonition to continue in prayer; however, when 
she bethought herself and returned to the Throne of Grace, 
the blessing came: and so it will to us, if we go in faith. 

Although anxiety still dwelt in Anna’s bosom, after the 
form of prayer had ceased, yet the great agony had given 
place to trust, and she felt strong and reconciled, resting on 
the strength and care of Jesus. 


OFF TO THE WAR. 


3 


The boys were in bed and the babe slept in it’s cradle; 
while Anna, with a sad heart and tearful eyes, sat by the 
open window gazing at the beautiful stars as they peeped 
out, one by one, in the blue etheral sky; listening with un- 
natural acuteness to the steady canonading, which told of 
the continuation of strife. 

Occasionally she arose, looked at her little sleepers and 
again returned to continue her lonely night-watch. 

At last the stars began to wane and light faintly to dawn 
in the east; the sounds of the battle grew fainter and fainter 
and finally, as the great orb of day flashed his glorious light 
over this, most lovely of earths, they ceased. Victory was 
won; but who were the victors ? 

Ask one of the brave soldiers of 1812 whether we ox the 
Britons were successful at the battle fought in Sacket’s 
Harbor, on the 29th of May, 1813; and with a smile he will 
tell you Uncle Sam’s boys gained the laurels of that field. 

Aye, we were victors: but the old controversy is ended; 
the sword lies buried in its sheath and mouldering with de- 
cay, as are the forms of nearfy all who participated in the 
strife. 

To-day we are friends. 

So God let tis be; 

Friends upon earth, 

Friends in eternity. 

Prayer is the sincere desire of the heart, and although 
Anna had not framed her prayer in words, at all times, yet 
she had continued in prayer.through the night and been sus- 


14 


OFF TO THE WAF. 

tained, as we all may be in times of trial, and as undoubt- 
edly many another was during the same night. 

The morning’s sunshine appeared to refresh our weary 
watcher somewhat, yet her aching heart was not at rest but 
still wrestled with anxiety and suspense. 

The children were early awake, and not being old enough 
to realize the cruelties of war, were as happy as lambs 
skipping about the yard, playing boo-peep with little 
Maggie,, and practising all the antics of early childhood. 

Occasionally they would say, “ Mother, will father be 
home to-day ?” and she would reply, “ I cannot tell, my 
iear children,” and away they would run to their play. 

The day was passing and the sun nearing the western 
lorizon, when Anna caught the sound of a step, and glancing 
jp she saw Franz coming up the walk. 

With a cry of delight she sprang to the door exclaiming, 
‘ Thrice welcome home, dear Franz,” and putting her arms 
iround his neck she placed upon his cheek a hearty kiss. 

He returned the salutation, greeted the little ones and 
sat to rest himsel-f, while his now happy frau hastened the 
evening meal. 

How happy they were to be again safe and well in each 
other’s society. Anna did not forget to thank the Heavenly 
Father for His kind, watchful care over hers and to ask a 
continuance of that care in the future. That night sleep 
was a welcome visitor at the home of Franz Ausman. 

Oh, beautiful valley, as eye e’er hast beholden ! 

Rich are thy hues of red, green and golden. 


OFF TO THE WAF. 


15 


Arranged in fine display, on your bold palisades 
Where nature, alone, blended those various shades. . 

Behold ! adorer of artist’s work, grand yet fine. 

And bend a low knee at Nature’s fair shrine: 

Where’s the artist dare compete in sculpture or paint 
With nature’s fair forms, grotesque or quaint ? 

Ah, he is not here, nor elsewhere, he doth not live; 

His work’s exquisite, but lacks what he cannot give. 

As we look down this valley, with autumn ablaze, 

The varied beauty of scene enhances our gaze. 

Can it be, this once was a forest vast and wild. 

Where the dusky hunter, in chase, his hours beguiled ? 

Yes, and these high barricades and dark rolling river. 

Together with the hunter, his bow and full quiver, 

Form a picture, to our eyes pleasant, strange and new, 

While he glides from sight in a narrow birch canoe. 

Another hastens onward, and it is our quick belief 
I'hat one so gayly dressed is the Mohawk indian chief. 

The Mohawks once were noted as warriors rash and brave. 

But none now tread the banks, which Mohawk’s water lave. 
Once, red men’s wigwams dotted o’er this pleasant vale; 

Instead of “ New York Central,” was the well-worn indian trail. 
Here, in time of war, loud the echoing war-whoop rung. 

And in time of peace, gently the songs of peace were sung. 

But, the wiley white men came, with purpose fixed and strong. 
And forced them from this, their valley, whether right or wrong. 
Now they, who lived in these dark aboriginal ages. 

Form a subject of conjecture on histories’ broad pages. 

Let them rest ! while we give thanks to the Most High, giver 
Of this Beautiful Vale of the Mohawk River. 

— The Author. 

“ Hush !” and the word was accompanied by the up- 
raising of a taper finger belonging to a more than ordinarily 
handsome young lady. Her style of beauty was that of a 
brunette, with dark hair, eyes sparkling and flashing, com- 


OFF TO THE WAT. 


i6 

plexion clear, cheeks rosy and a form perfect and well 
rounded. And as she listened, with her red lips slightly 
parted, they disclosed a beautiful set of ivory like teeth. 
She was standing on that side of Diamond Hill, at Little 
Falls, which commands a view of “ lover’s leap.” By her 
side stood a tall, slight man of agile movements and strongly 
developed muscles. He appeared a man of middle age, 
and as he listened, his keen, grey eyes rested admiringly, 
for a moment, on his fair companion; then followed the in- 
dication of her finger. 

There, on a point of rock, jutting out over rocks and river, 
stood a maiden, clad in loose, flowing robes. Her hair fell 
in waves about her shoulders, and in her hand was her bon- 
net, gently swinging, as she looked about her, appearing 
to drink in the beautifu scenery; while she sang, in a voice 
sweet and clear, of her dearly beloved for whom she would 
die. The picture was one never to be forgotten, so full of 
beauty, so resonant with sweetness; while the singer sang 
her plaintive air with such feeling and tenderness that the 
hearts of her unknown listeners were deeply touched, both 
by sentiment and sympathy; for surely the girl must sing 
from the heart, else, she could never express so much feel- 
ing in her song. They still listened spell-bound, for all 
natural sounds seemed lulled to catch the words as she 

sang, “ And now, my dear one, for thee I die .” As 

the last word floated away like an echo, she leaped into 
space, then pitched head foremost into the river below. 

Oh, horror ! what a tragical ending to the beautiful 
drama of a moment before. Yes, she had died, as she 


OFF TO THE WAR. 


1 / 


said, for her beloved. And since, the point has borne the 
name of Lover’s Leap. 

“ Well, Charity dear, would you do as much for me ?” said 
the gentleman as our two friends walked homeward in the 
evening twilight. 

“ No, Augustus Warden, not in that way; for her act was 
nothing short of madness. She has destroyed the life God 
gave her, and gone to eternity a murderess; while her death 
can in no wa}, possibly, benefit her beloved. No, Gustie, 
I could never do that for any one, so long as I am sane: 
but I love you sufficiently to do all in my power to make 
you happy; is not that quite sufficient ?” 

“ Yes, dear, quite; and far more practical than dashing 
out your brains to no purpose. Do you know. Charity, this 
day week we begin our new life, and then you will no longer 
be Charity Doxtater but Charity Warden. All mine to 
cherish, love and make mind,” he added, laughingly. 

“ Not the latter,” she said playfully, “ except absolutely 
by the rule of love.” 

And thus they chatted on, as young people will, complete 
in each other’s happiness. 

That day week they were married and a few years thence 

saw them settled in the town of P — , within a couple of 

miles of our friend Ausman. Mr. Warden was a native of 
Herkimer, while his wife came from St. Johnsville; both of 
German ancestry as well as the Ausmans. 

The Wardens now have four children; the third of whom 
is a manly little lad, who promptly answers to the name of 
John, and whom we shall meet again. 


CHAPTER II. 


A FIRE. 


“ Fire is good, but it must serve: 

Keep it thralled — for if it swerve 
Into Freedom’s open path 
' What shall check its maniac wrath ? 

Where’s the tongue that can proclaim 
The fearful work of curbless flame ? 

Darting wide and shooting high, 

It lends a horror to the sky; 

It rushes on to waste, to scare. 

Arousing terror and despair.” 

— Eliza Cook. 

TT is the eve of April ist, 1829, a dark, dismal night; the 
wind sighs through the trees, the great, black clouds 
obscure the sky, and the sleet is falling thick and fast. It 
is impossible for sight to penetrate the gloom, which sur- 
rounds the home of Ausman. 

Morpheus has cradled in his arms the entire household, 
who sweetly sleep in ignorance of the demon-like work now 
robbing them of a home. 

Franz, Jr., suddenly awakes and finds the chambers above 
a mass of flame. Leaping from his bed he shrieks, “ Fire ! 


A FIRE. 


19 


fire !” “ Where ?” asks his father. “ The entire chamber,” 

Franz replies. 

Herr and his frau leap from their bed and confusion en- 
sues. Seizing the water-pail, Anna empties its contents on 
the flames, which lick it up with a hissing sound and con- 
tinue on their way of destruction. A moment suffices to 
convince them of the utter uselessness of warring with the 
flames and they turn their attention to saving the children. 

No time is to be lost, every moment is precious: the 
timbers already crackle and threaten a speedy fall. 

Fortunately all were sleeping on the first floor, but in the 
fright Franz, Jr., throws the four younger children out of a 
window near by, little year old Amelia alighting upon her 
father’s shoulder, as he was passing, thus providentially 
being saved an untimely death by falling upon a stone heap. 

Apparently all are out, but Mr. Ausman, coming to his 
wife, says, “ Anna, are you sure the children are all out ?” 

The roll is called, — but eight respond and it is found that 
Susie, a girl of fourteen, is missing. 

Inhaling his lungs full of air, Herr rushes into the house 
which is now completely enveloped in flames; bounding to 
her bedside, he sweeps his hand over the bed and dashes 
through a window near at hand. To seek her farther in the 
house is impossible. 

“ My God ! my money, I must have that,” exclaims 
Ausman. 

“ For heaven’s sake, Franz, you must not go in again,” 
screams his frau, siezing him by the arm. 


20 


A FIRE. 


“ If I could but put my hand on that desk, I would fetch 
it,” he replies. 

“ But father, you certainly must not go into that house 
again,” says Andrew Jackson, and stepping to Herr’s side, 
takes the other arm. 

Another instant, the timbers creak and sway — and then, 
with a mighty crash the building comes to the ground. 

“Oh, my child, my child !” wails the agonized mother, as 
she thought of her child in the burning ruins of her home. 

At this several of them call, “ Susie, Susie !” when, lo ! 
from the ground cellar, a few rods at the rear of the ruins, 
came she forth clothed (in her night apparel) and in her 
right mind, although very much frightened. 

On being aroused at the discovery of the fire, hearing the 
confusion and becoming bewildered, Susie had hidden away 
in this cellar; but on hearing her name called had re- 
appeared, to the inexpressible joy of the entire family. 

But now that the fright is somewhat subsided, and all are 
saved, they begin to realize their truly pitiable condition. 

Here, at midnight, are eleven houseless beings with 
. naught save their night clothes, and those partly burned 
away, to protect them from the sleet and cold. 

The nearest house is a quarter of a mile distant but it is 
a brother's and to this they repair. 

With open arms, John Ausman receives his brother’s home- 
le.ss family and contributes all in his power to their comfort; 
but it is with unfeigned astonishment that he and his family 
heard the facts of the disastrous fire. 


A FIRE. 


21 


Herr Franz was in a sad plight; by trying to save his 
supposed burning child, he had been badly burned from 
head to foot; his hair and eyebrows were wholly gone, his 
flesh sore and blistered from fire and sleet. 

The following morning the neighbors were duly apprised 
of Ausman’s misfortune, and they willingly bestowed such 
attentions and kindnesses as were within their means. 

Notwithstanding all these, the burned man suffered ex- 
crutiatingly, and death seemed inevitable. Herr’s parents 
and a physician were quickly summoned. 

Grandfather and grandmother Ausman arrived as soon 
as possible. Grandmother bethought herself of the excellent 
power of saffron, and making a strong decoction of it gave 
Herr frequently to drink. 

Soon a change was perceptible, and when the physician 
arrived, he said grandmother’s prompt action was in reality 
the means of saving Herr’s life, as at his arrival it would 
have been too late. The remedy was simple but effectual. 

After weeks of unrelinquishing care both of nurses and 
physicians, Herr began to convalesce and in a few months 
was again able to attend to business. 

The money which was burned was to have paid the last 
of the mortgage on Ausman’s farm and make him a free 
man to debt. He had received it, the day of the fire, for his 
surplus grain, and was to have paid off the debt the next 
day. “ Man proposes, but God disposes.” 

Monsieur De LaRay took no advantage of Ausman ; but 
told him to first provide his family with all necessaries and 


22 


A FIRE. 


pay the balance on his farm when he could conveniently; 
thus Monsieur set an example worthy imitation. Always, 
when possible, be lenient. Do not crowd a person already 
cramped, but rather — 

“Do your best for one another 
Making life a pleasant dream, 

Help a worn and weary brother 
Pulling hard against the stream.” 

Previous to the burning of the old house, Ausman had 
intended to build in a few years and build well; but now he 
must build immediately and cheaply. 

Consequently he decided to have erected a frame house, 
sufficiently large to accommodate them for a few years until 
he could “ pick up a little.” 

Accordingly, that summer he had erected the said house, 
several rods from the old site on which he anticipated 
building more elegantly in the future. 

The new structure was quite comfortable, although un- 
painted and plain, and they lived in it nearly eleven years. 

In 1840, Herr Franz had succeeded in paying for his 
farm and lain sufficiently by to erect the house so long 
contemplated. 

The following is a description of the new house, as copied 
from one of Ausman’s granddaughter’s journals, years after 
its erection. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE MANSION. 

There are mansions eternal, above 
Perfected by a God of love, ' 

And they never spoil with decay; 

But earthly ones, though made of stone 
With rock foundation, when left alone 
Moulder and crumble away. 

— The Atithor. 

I 

“ The Ausman mansion, as grandfather’s house was 
styled, is situate from the main road some little distance, 
but communicates with it by a fine drive, shaded by stately 
elms. 

In front of the mansion is a handsome lawn made ro- 
mantic by its secluded appearance. 

The mansion is made of blue limestone, cut in oblong 
blocks; the building is more than one hundred feet in 
length, fifty feet in width. It has two stories above and 
one below ground. 

Inside, the rooms are finished in the best style those 
times afforded, being handsomely wainscotted and hard 
finished in various designs. 


24 


THE MANSION. 


A spacious hall occupies the center and the rooms on 
each side are arranged similarly; being built in the form of 
a double house. 

The main portion is fifty feet long, and at each end is a 
wing, twenty-five feet in length, and to each wing is attached 
a capacious and neatly finished woodshed. Each wing has 
two verandas, one on the east and one on the west side, 
supported by great, heavy pillars, and inclosed by balustrades 
except where steps descend to the ground. 

The greatest novelty of this mammoth house is its cellar, 
which contains ten rooms; it has an outer wall and entire 
bottom of solid limestone rock; the stones for building the 
house having been excavated from it by blasting. 

An air of stately grandeur and precision pervades the 
entire place. The mansion with its accompanying carriage- 
house, barns, sheds and so forth, are nearly surrounded by 
trees, many of which were primitive trees of the forest, and 
others were planted by my grandfather’s hands. 

How pleasant, oh, how pleasant was the home of my 
mother’s youthful days !” 

When the new house was completed Herr Ausman trans- 
ferred his family from the old to the new home, with 
pleasure and satisfaction. 

Five of the children were married and four of them gone 
to other homes; yet those remaining were happy, enjoying 
good health and the fruits of their father’s and mother’s 
labor. 

There was one great drawback to Herr Franz’s happiness: 
his fond and loving Anna, when little past the meridian of 


THE MANSION. 


25 


life had lost her eyesight. All the skill of that locality had 
been employed but to no avail: she was doomed to dark- 
ness; oh terrible thought ! 

Yet God can be a light to the blind, and so it proved in 
her case. He gave her an humbleness and patience to bear 
her afffiction uncomplainingly, and at the time she entered 
her new home she was quite accustomed to the dark, for she 
had already been blind four years. 

Franz, Jr., was married and occupied one-half of the 
mansion, working the farm for a share of its products. 

Flere we* must pass over some ten years, at the end of 
which time we find the littld Amelia has grown into a hand- 
some, prepossessing young lady of twenty-one; she has 
already made her debut into society and is the acknowledged 
belle of the neighborhood. 

She is fond of society, and her merriment and good looks 
are sufficient to make her courted by the “ lords of creation.” 
Among them is a wealthy, young gentleman, who is very 
enthusiastic over her charms, entirely blind to her faults, 
and who puts forth every endeavor to secure her affection. 

But entirely unknown to the world, she has set her heart 
on a youth, who, not possessing a wealth in money and 
lands, yet possesses a mine of good principles, fed by a 
fountain of love and sympathy. 

Notwithstanding this youth had often taken frauline 
Amelia into society and oftener visited her at her home, to 
the world he appeared to be paying his most marked at- 
tentions to one of the frauline’s sisters. 


CHAPTER IV. 




THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 

“ And love, the common link, the new creation crowned.” 

— Diyden. 

One beautiful, moonlight evening in June, Amelia thought 
she would enjoy a little, solitary stroll out in the grounds, 
which were spacious and thickly shaded, a few 'rods from 
the mansion. 

Throwing a shawl about her shoulders, she strolled 
leisurely about for some time, until walking became monot- 
onous, and she seated herself on a rustic seat beneath a 
stately elm, to commune within herself. 

She sat there some moments oblivious to all around; 
building castles in the air, dreaming of her beau-ideal, the 
oak around which she was wont to cast her tendrils and 
cling through life. At last a sigh heaved her breast, and 
with it came the words “ Dear John !” 

“What is it, Amie?” said a voice not far distant. In 
affright she started to her feet and would have proceeded 
to the mansion, although, on looking about, she saw no one. 

“ Not so fast, my love,” and the same instant a strong 
arm was thrown around her and she was gently forced back 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 


27 


into the rustic seat, when she found herself by the side of 
John Warden, 

“Why John, how you have frightened me! how came 
you here?” “Tell me first,” said John, “what right you 
have to use my name in vain, when you think me absent, 
and then I will answer your question.” 

“ I did not use your name in vain,” she replied, blushing 
crimson. “ If not in vain may I then have the privilege of 
thinking that the John referred to me.” 

“ I suppose you will take the privilege, the same as you 
did of coming here unobserved and listening to what you 
had no right to hear,” she retorted in rather a vexed tone, 
fearing he should trap her into an avowal before he had 
made one. “ However,” she added, “it is possible you may 
be deceived if you take that privilege.” 

A shadow .flitted across John’s face as he thought of 
another obtaining the prize he so much desired, and which 
he had almost considered his own. So perceptible was the 
change, that Amelia relented, and in gayer accents remarked, 
“ But, look here, young man, you have not yet explained 
your mysterious presence in this dramatic scene.” 

“ And I hardly know whether it is best to do so,” he 
added slowly. “ Well, you had better make known your 
biz or I’ll pretend I think you a prowler,” she said gayly. 

He looked at her an instant, trying to divine her thoughts. 
At last he said, “ Amie, I have a secret to entrust with you, 
providing you will keep it sacred. I have known you since 
childhood and respect you as a sister, but before I go 
farther, answer me one question. Can I trust you ?” 


28 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 


“Most assuredly, John, you can,” she replied. “Very 
well, then I’ll begin.” 

“ Several years ago, when away from home for a short 
time, I met a girl of whom I became enamored, but I was 
almost a lad then and she a year or two my junior; as the 
years have passed, my ideal has grown into womanhood and 
holds over my heart a powerful sway, although probably 
unknown to herself.” 

“ She has had many suitors but, as yet, has received no 
one into her heart’s kingdom, to my knowledge. A few 
times I have had the undefinable pleasure of her company 
to places of amusements ; at such times she was very 
gracious and appeared pleased with my society. Her station 
in life, perhaps, is above mine, as her father is considered 
wealthy and mine is not. Now the advice I wish is this, 
how shall I find out whether she returns my affections or 
not ?” 

John had been watching Amelia very scrutinizingly dur- 
ing his little narrative and noticed how she paled and 
appeared a little nervous, spite of all her endeavors to the 
contrary. Naturally he concluded that her heart was not so 
indifferent as she endeavored outwardly to appear. 

Amelia’s heart faidy sank within her as she listened. 
Surely it was not her he meant, for at the outset he had said 
he met the lady when from home. 

Mastering herself, as best she could, when John concluded 
she replied, “Well John, the most manly course to adopt 
and the one most likely to command her respect, is just to 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE, 


29 


go to the young lady, make your avowal and receive her 
answer, whether aye or nay ; if aye your happiness will be 
complete, if nay, just say to yourself, ‘There’s as good fish 
in the sea as ever was caught,’ bid your idol adieu and seek 
another. That is my advice.” 

“ Very well, I will take it and act accordingly. But Amie, 
you shiver, I believe you are taking cold ; let me accom- 
pany you to the veranda.” 

“ If you please. I believe I am getting cold out here in 
the dewy air. ’ 

The two arose and in silence proceeded to the mansion; 
upon reaching the veranda she started toward the door, 
but again his hand arrested her and he said: “Amie, if you 
will please bear with me a little longer, I should like to talk 
with you out here a few moments. Perhaps after telling 
you a part of my romance it is no more than fair to tell you 
the lady’s name.” 

“ I think you had better not,” she replied, fearing lest 
she should betray her feelings by furthering the conversation. 

“ But my discretion dictates otherwise,” said John, “ and 
to comply with your advice it is absolutely necessary, for 
Amie, you are the one so long adored, you are the one with 
whom I wish to join hands that we may journey through life 
together.” 

Amie stood like one petrified, for a moment, leaning 
against one of the pillars of the veranda; the tide was so 
suddenly turned upon her that it almost over-powered her 


senses. 


30 THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 

Throwing his arm around her and drawing her near him- 
self he said: “Amie, I acted upon your advice; I have 
made my avowal, and now like a prisoner at the bar await 
the decision. Must I go hence, forever an outcast from 
your society, or may it be with the sweet assurance of your 
love and a knowledge that you are my own ?” 

Amelia raised her beautiful eyes to his fora moment, then 
placed her right hand in his and whispered: “John, I am 
thine, foreverthine.” 

Fair luna smiled upon the scene that followed, and it- is 
not the only one upon which she has smiled; she and the 
bright little stars have a right to witness such scenes, but 
dear reader, you and I have not. But while the twain are 
enjoying themselves let me explain John’s strange appear- 
ance at the elm. 

He had long desired to make known his feelings to Amelia 
and had decided upon this evening to do so; with this 
intention he started for her home, and thinking to shorten 
the distance, he left the highway, passed through her father’s 
orchard and entered the yard a short distance back of the 
elm. 

Observing Amelia heThought to give her a little surprise 
and cautiously found his way to the rear of the rustic seat; 
as he was about to apprise her of his presence she uttered 
the words, “Dear John.’’ 

Thinking success awaited his declaration, he determined 
it should be made there in the moonlight, but on receiving 
her tart reply with regard to the application of the word 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 


31 


John, he determined not to commit himself without testing 
the ground on which he was about to tread; hence the use 
of a little strategy. 

His statement in regard to meeting the lady when from 
home was truthful, for it was at school that the germ of love 
was planted, and by his care had grown into the all absorb- 
ing passion of which we have just read. 

During that evening the lovers decided that at no distant 
day John should ask the parent’s consent to their union, 
and after that a time should be fixed for their marriage. 
Accordingly, after a few weeks the parent’s consent was ob- 
tained, and about the following New Year was the time set 
to celebrate their nuptials. 

That summer and autumn John was a frequent guest at 
mansion de la Ausman, and was always welcomed by the 
frauline and Herr’s entire household. 

At last December’s snow cast her mantle of ermine over 
the green earth, and all was bustle at the mansion, for it 
was now Christmas and in a week from that time, on New 
Year’s day, Amelia Ausman and John Warden were to be 
united heart and hand in the holy bonds of matrimony. 

The anxiously looked for day arrived, and on the first day 
of 1850, the two were made one. A ball was given in the 
evening in honor of the affair, as was then customary, and, 
following this, came the “ honey-moon.” 

All things have an end and so did the “ honey-moon.” 
After sipping honey during the winter, John deemed it best 
to seek a hive for his queen; for unwise John had taken his 


32 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE, 


queen before he had a hive, and now both must shift for 
the hive. 

In our grandfather’s days it was quite customary for 
fathers to think the boys deserved the greater portion of the 
property, and made their wills accordingly. 

If the girls had a “setten out ” and a few hundred sur- 
plus, it was quite sufficient; the surplus was generally 
reserved until the death of the donor, and the “ setten out” 
consisted of a certain small amount of furniture, (at least 
considered small nowadays). 

It was thus Franz Ausman viewed the matter, and so he 
reasoned, “ if people cannot take care of themselves when 
they are young, they certainly cannot when they are old.” 

So it was that John, with his lovely Amelia and their 
“ setten out,” started in the world with hands and good 
health, to seek his fortune. 

“ Sweet bud of life ! thy future doom 
Is present to my eyes. 

And joyously I see thee bloom 
In Fortune’s fairest skies. 

One day that breast, scarce conscious now, 

Shall burn with patriot flame; 

And, fraught with love, that little brow 
Shall wear the wreath of Fame.” 

— Campbell. 

It was a bright, beautiful day in harvest time that little 
Annis Warden was ushered into this ever busy, ever chang- 
ing world. It was the twenty-eighth of August, eighteen 
hundred fifty- five; the sun was declining westward; the 


THE MOONLIGHT PRO MILE. 


33 


reapers were already come from the fields, and in the 
kitchen of the old, red farm-house were enjoying refresh- 
ments. 

This old, red farm-house, so unceremoniously introduced 

to our readers, is situated in the tov/n of L : , in the 

grand old Empire State; is a frame building, much longer 
than wide, with a huge old-fashioned chimney protruding 
itself through the center of the roof. 

Once it had been painted red, but at the time our story 
begins, the busy fingers of time had washed much of it off. 
The farm and house was the property of a widow, but at 
that time was partly occupied by Mr. Warden’s family, who 
rented the farm. 

Let us for a moment take in the prospect. The road’s 
course is southerly, with the house on the left or east side, 
and the barns nearly opposite, on the west side. 

At the rear of the house, and but a few rods away, is a 
deep gorge, edged by a thick growth of trees; in front, 
glancing over a few fields, the sight is again arrested by the 
thick foliage of another wood. 

Looking southward you behold the only house visible 
from this place; northward extends the narrow road, bounded 
by green fields until lost to view. 

Although to a stranger the prospective might seem lonel}^ 
and even dreary, yet to those accustomed to it, it seemed 
pleasant, and many a morning’s sun has here peeped on 
bright and happy faces as preparations were made for the 
day’s labor. 


34 


THE MOONLIGHT PROMISE. 


The occupants of the house consisted of two families; the 
widow Ranson and her four grown up children, and the 
tenant’s family, which at the time we introduce baby Annis 
to our readers, consists of John A. Warden, his wife, his 
brother. Dee, and lastly but not leastly, little baby Annis, 
with her wee round face, bright blue eyes and auburn hair. 


CHAPTER V. 


EVENTS. 


“ Majestic river, full of awe and wonder, 

Roll onward in thy might. ♦ * * 

Good-by old river ! 

Good-by ! the echoes die with the cataract thunder. 

While away to the wind we fly to a western wonder.” 

— Lansing V. Hall. 

“Line and new repair your towns of war 
With men of courage.” 

— Shakspeare. 

ITfHEN Annis was eight years of age her parents, with her, 
^ made a tour West; some occurrences of which she still 
remembers well. 

The first scene, which appears to have attracted her par- 
ticular attention, is the Suspension Bridge, at Niagara, and 
the Falls. The stupendousness and beauty of Niagara Falls 
made a lasting impression on the mind of little Annis, as 
she first saw them under the blaze of an August sun. 

The water after making its descent of one hundred sixty 
feet over a perpendicular wall of rock, mingle with the seeth- 
ing waves below, which appear like the boiling waters of an 
immense caldron. 


36 


EVENTS. 


The spray, which rises from the wildly tumultuous 
waters, is sent from the profound depths upward nearly to 
the clouds and descends again in a mist-like rain, producing 
a most beautiful effect in the sunlight by reflecting all the 
varying colors of the rainbow. 

The banks on either side below the Falls rise to such a 
height, or rather the bed of the river falls to such a depth, 
that one can scarcely suppress a shudder as they look down 
into that yawning chasm and see the turbulent waters below. 

What observer can behold such a scene of grandeur and 
not feel impressed by its awfulness and sublimity ? It struck 
Annis, young though she was, and in maturer years she 
often revisited the scene in her imagination and as often 
felt awe and reverence for that Creator, who at will could 
fashion such a beautiful and yet such an awful picture. We 
admire art, the handiwork of man ; but ah ! how intensely 
we wonder at, and even revere the work of the Almighty 
Hand, for it is unsurpassable, it is perfect in all its parts. 

After leaving Niagara, Annis and her parents proceeded 
to Hamilton, Ontario, where Annis rode up the first moun- 
tain she ever saw. Here they spent several days visiting 
friends. 

From Hamilton our friends resumed their journey to 
Michigan ; in this state they met with quite an adventure, 
which might be entitled, 

LOST IN THE FOREST. 

At Pawpaw, Mr. Warden secured a carriage to Nichols- 
ville, and in the early dawn of a beautiful day, the travelers, 


EFEN-TS. 


37 


seated in a nice barouche, drawn by a spirited team, driven 
by a very confident driver, started on the journey which 
was to be completed in two or three hours, at longest. 

Passing through a portion of a forest, in which were many 
roads, some of them appearing to lead in identically the 
same direction, but which gradually diverged until they 
terminated in very different localities ; our driver made a 
mis-choice. 

After a few such turnings and bearings off, the vehicle 
was brought to a stand-still, the road having terminated at 
a thick undergrowth. 

Here the driver declared he had lost his way. Surely it 
looked like the haunt of banditti; however, none appeared, 
and the barouche was soon wheeled about and rolling its 
way back to the last forks passed, where the driver reigned 
his still prancing team off to another road, trusting to luck 
for success. 

It was now quite past breakfast time, and the travelers 
began to feel the pangs of hunger, with the sweet assurance 
of being lost in a strange forest. 

The road he had chosen began to appear much like the 
other, and so at the very first opportunity, he made a turn; 
thus he continued to turn, whenever he felt prompted so to 
do, beginning to get almost desperate in his confusion. 
From his conduct one would have supposed that success in 
reaching his destination depended upon a certain amount of 
oaths, for the way “ he ripped them off,” as the boys say, 
“ was a caution.” 


38 


EVENl^S. 


The horses began to tire but he urged them on, declaring 
the landlord would think hirri a scallawag because he was 
so long gone with the team. 

It was a bright, warm day, and yet it was cool in the shade 
of the wood, and although not placed in the most favorable 
circumstances, our friends rather enjoyed the ride; however, 
in some places the roads were rough, and the carriage was 
often scratched and marred by overhanging branches and 
close growing bushes. 

Again they came to a stop, and upon looking out, a very 
pretty picture met their vision. There, in the very heart of 
the forest, as it seemed, basking in the sunlight, lay a green- 
edged lakelet. 

Its blue, clear water had scarcely a ripple on its surface, 
while on its bosom were mirrored the grass and trees, which 
surrounded it. It bespoke peace, happiness and content; 
it seemed a fit dwelling place for fairies, and one could 
watch it, feeling as if gazing at enchanted waters. 

The opposite shore was a gradual ascent, and at some 
distance beyond, was visible a habitation. 

Our friends beheld the beautiful scene with delight, and 
the fretted driver ceased his ravings and enjoyed the pros- 
pect too, while the horses sniffed the fresh air and rested. 

Having enjoyed, so long as they could, the lovely scene 
which nature had spread before them, and observing the 
road ended there, and none other appeared to come to the 
little lake, they resolved to return to a road they had passed, 
which they thought might lead to the habitation. 


£ VENTS. 


39 


They were right in their conclusion, for the road did lead 
to the habitation, but it was long and rough, and the driver 
was much excited by the time he reached the cabin. 

Upon halting, a. man stepped out, whom the driver ac- 
costed with, “ Can you tell me the way to Snickersville ?” 
“ To where ?” said the man in astonishment. 

“ To Sickersville,” snapped out the driver, as if provoked 
because the man did not understand. By this time the man 
at the door was laughing, and the trio inside the barouche 
were almost bursting with laughter at his excited manner 
and ridiculous mistake, which he had not noticed in his 
perplexity. 

Mr. Warden rectified the mistake by saying “ Nichols- 
ville,” when the driver saw his blunder and almost yelled out, 
“ Well, Nicholsville,then ; I knew it was some — ville or other.” 

Here the laughter became general, and the driver laughed 
with a hearty good will, at the ridiculousness of his question. 
The merriment subsiding, the man gave the desired infor- 
mation, and the party went on their way to Nicholsville, 
where they arrived without further hinderance, about noon. 
Here Mr. Warden settled with the driver and invited him in 
to dinner, which invitation he very respectfully declined, 
seeming in a great worry lest the owner should accuse him 
of being too long gone with the conveyance. 

After shaking hands and receiving each others good 
wishes, the two separated, each to pursue his own course in 
life; but I will venture each of the party recalls with a certain 
good humor, a little adventure in a certain Michigan woods. 


40 


EVENTS. 


While visiting at Grand Rapids they visited the Barracks, 
then stationed there; to those unacquainted with soldier 
life it is quite interesting to visit their grounds. 

These were located upon a hill just outside the thickly 
settled portion of the city, enclosed by a high and closely 
built board fence, with several gates, at which were stationed 
guards. 

Visitors were admitted only at the main entrance, as a 
rule, and when ready to'depart, passed out at another gate- 
way; however, soldiers sometimes allowed their friends to 
sly in, at a convenient moment, apparently unobserved, yet 
they were -liable to punishment if caught doing so. 

On the grounds was the grand dining-hall, which was 
built of rough boards; inside were long tables, made roughly 
of the same material, on which were placed the necessary 
eating appurtenances. Coffee and tea each were decocted 
in caldron kettles. 

The sleeping-hall was constructed upon the same plan as 
the dining-hall; but, instead of tables, were arranged on 
either side tiers of bunks in which, rolled in their blankets 
with their knapsacks for pillows, the tired soldier boys slept 
contentedly, knowing so many were faring worse than they. 

But one could scarcely feel happy when they looked upon 
the manly forms and bright faces of those boys in blue; for 
we knew that not long hence they would be summoned to 
the far South, and on the regiments return, many who now 
promptly answered to the roll call, would then be silent in 
death. Again, of those who returned many a form would 
be bent by disease and others maimed for life. 


EVENTS. 


41 


Nor does one’s thoughts stop here with this little band, 
but rather, spread their wings and soar over the entire 
Union, and return with a sigh for the hundreds of thousands 
doomed to the same fate. 

Ah ! well may the mother of our loved country weep 
when she sees her own dear sons at war with each other; 
for what could be more terrible, more unnatural, than a 
Nation at war with itself; where brother rises up against 
brother in arms and slays each other without mercy. Is it 
right ? Can it be right ? God knows. 

The tide of right and might ran high at this time, and 
although thousands volunteered their services to their coun- 
try’s welfare, yet so insufficient were the numbers that drafts 
had frequently to be made. 

Of course those drafted were not pleased to go as was 
clearly illustrated by the conduct of a company of drafted, 
who were aboard the train that brought the Warden’s home. 

The company was composed of various classes; some 
were accustomed to labor, while others appeared never to 
have performed a day of manual labor. They were un- 
equipped, except the guards, and were on their way to 
Washington. 

Although unequal in station they appeared unanimous, 
speaking in a general way, in one thing, and that was reck- 
lessness; their feelings were preverse to going, and being 
compelled, they seemed to have lost all self-respect. They 
had liquor with them, drank, swore, and drank again, until 
many were thoroughly intoxicated. 


42 


EVENTS. 


Passengers feared for their safety; the conductor endeav- 
ored to quiet them, and the guard, who were insufficient to 
force order, tried to reason with them, but all to no purpose. 

They declared, if they must be driven down South, like 
cattle to the slaughter, and set up for a mark at the John- 
ie’s shooting match, they might as well die then and there. 

Passengers who alighted at Rome were glad to be rid of 
the scene; yet could not but feel pity for those men who 
were forced from all that was dear to them, and compelled 
to fight, contrary to their wishes; and yet it was necessary 
to save the honor of our country and its life. 

The Wardens reached home, after an absence of two 
months, feeling both pleased and fatigued with their journey. 

In after years Annis composed a few stanzas, which I 
shall here insert. They are called 

A TRIBUTE TO THE FALLEN BRAVE. 

Again, we meet with the sacred dead 
And strew their mounds with flowers; 

To pay a tribute to our loved ones, 

Who died in those dark hours. 

From home and friends they were severed 
At their country’s urgent call; 

For her they suffer’d, they fou’t, they bled. 

They gave their life, their all. 

Two armies in deadly combat fought 
On the mountain, plain and dell. 

And, as the leaden missiles whizzed. 

Many of our brave boys fell. 


EVENTS. 


43 


We’ll weave them wreaths of laurels ' 
And crown their names with fame; 

We’ll stamp their memory in our hearts, 
And give them an immortal name. 

Among the heroic and silent dead 
Were loyal hearts, brave and true; 

The seceedive soldiers wore the gray, 

The northern boys wore the blue. 

Remember in charity, kind friends, 

While here we have met to-day. 

That many of your southern friends weep 
O’er loved ones clad in gray. 

So rest ! ye brave and early fallen ' 

Rest, for aye, in yonder realm 

Where naught of pain nor mortal sadness 
Shall thy noble hearts o’er whelm. 

Sleep sweetly, ye noble and loved ones. 

In your grass covered cots; there 

No war-cry nor sorrow shall trouble, 

Nor shadow thy brows with a care. 

Now we must leave you, dearly loved ones. 
With flowers strewn o’er the sod 

Where your mortal part reclineth. 

But your spirit’s gone to God. 

And in His care we’ll leave you, brothers, 
’Till the trump shall bid you rise. 

And then, together all united. 

We shall dwell beyond the skies. 

So fare-the-well our friends and kindred; 
Fare-the-well, adieu, adieu; 

Oh ! we shall ne’er forget the brave ones 
Who so nobly wore the blue. 


44 


E VENTS. 


“For Time will come with all its blights, 

The ruined hope — the friend unkind — 

The love, that leaves where’er it lights, 

A chilled or burning heart behind.” 

— Moore. 

In the year of 1865 Annis had to be separated from her 
uncle Warren, her father’s youngest brother, who had spent 
so much of his time at her fathers, and being young and full 
of frolic, seemed to her more like a brother than uncle; but 
his country needed his assistance, and he must go. 

He gave Annis good advice and gained her promise to 
remember him often while absent; he kissed and pressed to 
his heart his pet, and only niece, bade her and his other 
friends good-by, and started from home to the sunny but 
tumultuous south. 

Frequently little packages found their way from Rich- 
mond, Washington, and other southern towns, by which 
she felt that although absent in person, yet her much loved 
uncle was often present with her in mind. 

Knowing that he was deeply interested in her welfare, 
and anxious for her progress at school, was one incentive 
that urged her to greater zeal in her studies. Often she 
carried away the prize from school, and in some branches 
quite excelled. 

Annis often retired to her room, and on bended knees 
thanked God, as she had been taught to do, for His kind 
care over her and hers, and asked His guidance and care 
for her far away uncle. 

It almost seemed that Warren felt this for he purchased 
and sent to her the following lines. 


EVENTS. 


45 


TO THE LOVED ONES AT HOME. 

“ Through all the sore trials, privations and dangers, 

The poor, war-worn, soldier is destined to roam; • • 

When in a strange land and surrounded by strangers, 

’'I'is pleasant to dwell on the loved ones at home; 

To steal from the campfire, an hour for reflection, 

And muse, all alone, in calm retrospection; 

Our fancy recalling, with fond recollection, 

The scenes of our youth, and the loved ones at home.” 

“ These scenes ever cherished, how plainly we view them; 

The playgi'ound, the school-house, the bell and the dome. 

Our teachers and school-mates, all, just as we knew them 
When we were but children, with the loved ones, at home; 

But time’s onward marches and war’s wild commotion. 

Have changed all the scenes of our youthful devotion. 

And tossed, here and there, on life’s boisterous ocean. 

The surviving companions we once knew at home.” 

‘‘But still we retain some dear friends and relations. 

Who pray for our safety, while tossed on the foam; 

To these, we now tender our lone meditation, 

For these, are the loved ones we cherish at home. 

And when we have conquered Jeff Davis’ minions. 

And the eagle is soaring on liberty’s pinions. 

With the star spangled banner o’er all our dominions. 

We hope to be welcomed, by the loved ones at home. ” 

During the summer of 1866 Warren received a wound, 
and was granted a furlough to come to his northern home, 
at the close of which he returned South, and remained un- 
til the final discharge of his regiment, when he returned 
home, and after a few years married and became engrossed 
in the care of babies and other home matters. 


46 


E VENTS. 


Annis attended the district school, where she lived, for 
the last time, during the winter of 1868, and was then thir- 
teen years of age. She, like most other such misses, con- 
sidered herself nearly, or quite, a young lady; but her parent’s 
ideas of her young ladyhood, were quite different, for they, 
and very properly too, considered her still a little girl. 

And when young America gave its round of parties that 
season, her papa was her escort, and when the proper time 
arrived he called again and escorted her home. This was 
a little cause for gossip among the more forward young 
misses; however, Annis generally considered her parent’s 
ideas best, and was quite willing to act accordingly. 


CHAPTER VI. 


AGNES WELCH. 


Oh friend of my childhood ! so dear to my heart; 

Sweet, sweet are the thoughts, which your memory impart; 
Aye, dear you are to me and ever shall be 
Till together we dwell in sweet unity; 

United in heaven, to part never more. 

To sing the Lamb’s praises on Eden’s fair shore. 

— The Author. 

TT7HILE away from home learning music, Annis formed 
the acquaintance of a young lady, whom we will call 
Agnes Welch. 

Agnes was a Christian, and her influence on Annis, who 
had been reared by Christian parents, was beneficial; inas- 
much as it led her to an open avowal of her acceptance of 
Jesus as her Saviour, and her intention of following Him 
through life. 

Annis and Agnes became the . best of friends, and spent 
as much time as possible with each other. They were great 
confidents and trusted each other fully. 

Agnes was two years Annis senior, being “sweet sixteen” 
at the time of which I write and Annis fourteen. 


AGNES WELCH. 


Although young, Annis began her newly avowed Christian 
life by taking up some of the crosses as they appeared. 
She made it a point to bear testimony for Jesus when the 
opportunity presented; even though her voice trembled, her 
heart thumped and every nerve quivered with emotion. 

She felt it was Satan who tried to silence her, and so she 
resisted him. She often uttered a vocal prayer, -although 
the adversary told her it would be much better for a child 
like her to pray mentally. She asked the Father to help 
her and He did, and so she became victorious. As years 
passed on Satan ceased to tantalize her in that way, and 
what was once a cross became a joy, without fear or em- 
barrassment. Oh, yes, we believe in children, boys and 
girls, women too, as well as men, bearing testimony to the 
great, never ending love of God the Father, God the Son, 
God the Spirit, Three in One. Let all praise Him, glorify 
Him and magnify Flim by telling of His greatness, of His 
love and merciful kindness to the children of men. 

Annis quite early developed a taste for essay writing, 
and having joined the I. O. of G. F.’.s, she penned the 
following as one way of treating the subject of temperance: 

INTEMPERANCE. 

“ This is a word of much meaning; usually we make use 
of the word intemperance to imply habitual drunkenness. 
But intemperance is not wholly confined to the excessful 
use of spirituous liquors. We may be intemperate in many 
ways, as, for instance, by being passionate and allowing our 
passions to lead us to excesses, or by indulging our appetites 


AGNES WELCH. 


49 


in any course they may take, such as smoking or chewing 
tobacco continually, except while engaged in eating or 
sleeping; also in the excessive use of coffee or tea or any- 
thing else our appetites may desire. 

And let me here state, that when well people will arise 
from their beds in the dark hours of night, build a fire and 
make a decoction of either coffee or tea, merely for the 
satisfaction of appetite, and after drinking, retire again, I 
say they are as much under the spell of intemperance as he 
who rises from his cot and quaffs a glass of brandy or other 
liquor merely for the pleasure or satisfaction of appetite. 

Again, we may be intemperate in immoderate enjoyment. 
I have heard people remark they would rather dance than 
eat: now, if this be true, are they not indulging enjoyment 
to excess, and if so, are they then on the road of temperance ? 

So it is through all the vicissitudes of life, we may carry 
anything to excess and by so doing make ourselves subjects 
of intemperance. 

There is one very important point T have not yet men- 
tioned, and which probably comes under the head of 
indulgence of the appetite. It is the excessive use of liquors 
of all kinds. 

Methinks someone settled down with a very comfortable 
air just now, saying to himself, ‘ Well, that doesn t hit me, 
for I never use it to excess. I am very careful and never 
take more than I can bear.’ 

My friend, to you I say, ‘ Beware ! beware, lest ye fall !’ 


50 


AGNES WELCH. 


The deadly serpent lying in yonder coil does not rise and 
with one mad rush, confront his fair but unconscious victim, 
thus apprising her of danger and causing her to flee. Ah ! 
no. He is far too cunning for that; but with a gentle, 
peculiar sound attracts her attention, and, on turning her 
eyes, she beholds no danger, nothing but a bright, gem-like 
spot in the green beyond. She looks again. It is still 
there, so beautiful ! Now she gazes intently, unable to 
resist the fascination of that brilliant magnet. 

Now its drawing nearer, nearer, aye, nearer — now it glides 
up to her and rears in the air, towering up before her vision 
in all its strength and power, the very embodiment of de- 
monical triumph and death. 

‘ Oh God !’ her soul cries within her, and dies. She is 
powerless now, unable to make the least resistance when the 
huge monster triumphantly fastens his fangs upon her, and 
slowly winds his cold, clammy, deathlike coils about her. 
Ah ! if she had only listened to the warning cry of the little 
blackbird she might have been saved — might have been — 
but now, it is too late, too late. 

Beware ! my friend, beware ! listen to the blackbird’s cry, 
and beware that it be not too late, too late. 

But I will go back again to my subject, the excessive use 
of liquors of all kinds. 

When man was created, he was created lord of creation. 
Mrs. Caudle says, ‘ Pretty lords, when they can’t even take 
care of an umbrella.’ But I say, pretty lords when they can 
not taNe care of themselves, when they have not will 


AGATES WELCH. 


51 


sufficient to say, ‘ I never, no, never, will touch the luring 
poison again,’ and then, with God’s help, keep their word. 

With God’s help, I say, for man at his best is but weak 
in the way of overcoming temptation; so, my friend, do not 
rely entirely upon your own strength, but ask God to aid 
you. He is strong. He is willing and fully able to succor 
those that are tempted. 

Do I hear someone say they have not the will to resist 
the temptation ? Ah ! yes, that argument is often raised, 
and it is true. But why have they not the will ? Because 
they do not want it. I have already told you where to 
seek aid, and let me farther say, exercise the will you have. 

Generally speaking, those who follow liquor drinking are 
persons who possess indomitable wills. It may not always 
show itself, truly it does not; but you offer that man a barrel 
of the best whisky as a recompense for performing some 
task, and should it be almost an impossibility, yet he will 
perform it; his will will know no obstacle that cannot be 
overcome; then you will find he has a will, and knows how 
to work it. 

Why is it he has sufficient will now, and at other times 
not ! Why, he has the will at all times, to be sure he has 
the will, but lacks the will or desire to use that will in that 
direction. Just step up to that individual when he is about 
to quench the demon thirst and behold, how quickly the 
will manifests itself. 

And if that man should chance to have a wife, just let 
her attempt to get ten dollars of him to devote to her in- 


52 


AGNES WELCH. 


dividual pleasure and very likely if you have eyes or 

ears you will very readily know whether he has a will or not. 

The will power does not come and go like a passing 
breeze; it is a gift of God, and, when once given, remains 
the same as the other faculties, and verily often when the 
others have vanished. 

It is because we lack energy, or in other words, are too 
shiftless to set our wills in motion; they are allowed to lie 
dormant, except when something arises which we like to do. 

If people would exercise their will power as ambitiously 
and thoroughly to accomplish good to themselves and 
others, whether in accordance with their likes or dis- 
likes, as many do to work out their own ruin, there would 
be a general reformation throughout our land in many 
things. 

Crime would be diminished and the accursed cup, which 
finds its way into so many households, would be thrust 
aside, and instead of misery, happiness would reign 
supremely. 

There are old men standing on the very verge of the 
tomb, whose intemperate habits must soon bring them to a 
drunkard’s dishonored grave; there are the middle aged 
who might make their wives and children happy, if they 
would stay at home with them, instead of wasting their time 
and money in gambling and drinking saloons. 

Then there are the young men, who might be gems in 
society, if they would let alone their ‘ social glass,’ as they 


AGNES WELCH. 


53 


term it; but their social glasses far too often lead them, 
with bottles in their pockets, to stagger about the street. 

Some have tried drinking to their heart’s content, have 
seen the folly thereof, have forsaken their evil ways, and are 
endeavoring to do better. May the Lord bless and lead 
them ever on in the road of temperance. 

But others worship their King Alcohol and would not 
forsake him for worlds, but their’s is a wretched life, for 
they are slaves to him and their appetite. 

And for this slavery, assume grievous burdens, such as 
bottles, canteens, rags, dirt, and worse than all, a dull brain, 
making themselves lower than the brute creation. 

On the other hand, temperance men can walk about the 
street with a light heart, clear brain, and enjoy the world 
as they go. Which will you be, the temperate man or 
inebriate; poor inebriate ? Oh ! never make fun of him; he 
is no object of sport but rather of pity. 

It is enough to make the temperance men of the United 
States of America tremble, when they think of the terrible 
crimes committed by persons under the influence af alcoholic 
stimulants; think of the thefts, incendiaries and tragedies, 
of all sorts, that are committed by drunken men and women. 

Think of the thousands, aye, millions of lives made com- 
plete wrecks by the use of intoxicating drinks. In our 
great cities there are many women left widows, and thou- 
sands of children, orphans, to fight the battles of life alone; 
to obtain their bread by begging or stealing, and to find 
homes in the streets or lockups. 


54 


AGNES WELCH. 


And this misery is caused by the cruel hand of alcohol. 
Why is it we can not drive this curse from our land ? 

Is it because our Presidents, Congressmen and Statesmen 
are not temperate men ? If so, I sincerely hope that in the 
future we shall have the ‘ true blue ’ temperance men to 
make our laws and enforce them. 

Our newspapers are filled with such headings as these: 
‘ A wife killed by her drunken husband,’ ‘ A drunken father’s 
brutality to his child,’ ‘ Rum did it,’ and so forth. And 
what did rum do ? Was it deeds of kindness ? Ah ! no. 

But I will tell you what rum does do. It fills the jails 
and state prisons of our lands with criminals; it fills many 
a once happy home with sorrow and disgrace; it rends 
asunder many a nuptial vow; it causes worlds of broken 
hearts, and oceans of tears to be shed; it sends people to 
the mad house, suffering from that dread disease, delirium 
tremens, and it fills our cemeteries with drunkard’s graves. 

All I have said is nothing, absolutely nothing, in com- 
parison to the amount of individual agonies caused by this 
demon of demons. 

Friends, if you would have the rising generation truly 
temperate, mind your influence, your example. Indellibly 
stamp upon the impressible minds of the children the beauty 
of temperance in all things and to seek aid from on High; 
remembering alway the apostle’s advice, ‘ Be ye temperate 
in all things.’ 

One thought further. What is to be the drunkard’s 
eternal doom if he goes thence unrepentant ? 


AGATES WELCH. 


55 


I will not expatiate further upon the subject, but commit 
it to you for examination, pro and con, and leave it with 
you to decide whether will exert your influence in favor 
or against this great enemy of mankind. Bear in mind, 

‘ Little drops of water, little grains of sand, 

Make the mighty ocean and the beauteous land.’ ” 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE JOURNAL. 


Oh ! my journal, kind and true ! 
Surely, oft’ I’ll turn to you. 


— The Author. 


UGUST of 1871 finds Annis Warden a young lady of 



^ sixteen, of medium height and fully developed form; 
a pale blond, with large, blue eyes and auburn hair. 

The ringlets have long since given place to massive 
braids, which she wears coiled about her well-shaped head. 

Annis is not handsome, as most of our story friends are, 
but she has a peculiarity of manners, which win for her 
friends wherever she goes. She is kind to all, respectful to 


all. 


Annis always entertained the idea of becoming a teacher, 
even from her early childhood, and as she was passionately 
fond of children and delighted to have them near her, it 
is a general belief she should be a teacher, but she is yet 
young, and her people think it best she should wait at least a 
year before attempting such a work. 

The autumn glided away, and December found Annis in 
the town of B , presiding over a rural district school 


THE JOURNAL. 


57 


as teacher, the regular teacher being called home 
on account of a sister’s illness. 

For three weeks Annis guided the mental and moral ad- 
vancement of about thirty pupils, ranging in age from five 
to twenty-one. And, although it had the reputation of 
being a hard school, yet she had but little trouble in sus- 
taining order, and in a very few days she had completely 
won the ring-leader of mischief over to dignity and study. 

When her father came for her, saying, “ Miss M will 

will be able to return next Monday and I have come for you,” 
Annis attempted to say a few words in general farewell, but 
one head after another dropped upon the desks, sobs were 
heard, and such a melancholy pervaded the room that she 
hastened to gently dismiss the school; at which the pupils 
flocked about her to say good-bye, kissing her, pressing her 
hand and saying kind words, which she still cherishes in 
her heart. 

It was a sore trial for Annis to take her leave of those 
whom she had already learned to love and whose memories 
she cherishes in loving kindness still. She endeavored to 
drop a word of kindly advice here and there and at last left 
them to meet no more. 


THE JOURNAL, MARCH I, 1872. 

“This winter has been, to me, one of happiness, notwith- 
standing some grief has been intermingled. But we cannot 
expect this life to be all sunshine, with no clouds to flit 
across the sky. 


58 


THE JOURNAL. 


It is as necessary for our mental and spiritual, if not 
physical, growth that we have trials, disappointments, per- 
versities and prosperity, as it is for vegetation to require 
cloudy days, rain, darkness and sunshine for its growth; it 
is one of the similarities of organic creation. 

‘ Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days be dark and dreary.’ 

I often call to mind a story I read in childhood, of a 
slave, who had a very kind master. But one day this master 
gave the slave a very bitter fruit to eat. 

Without a word the slave complied with his master’s re- 
quest, not so much as even wincing at the bitterness. When 
he had finished, his master said, ‘ How could you eat that 
without a grimace?’ ‘Why,’ replied the slave, ‘ When it is 
the only bitter thing you have ever given me, why should I 
complain ?’ 

So we are God’s servants, and when He bestows blessing 
after blessing upon us why should we complain when he 
sends affliction ? For, though he afflicts, he loves us still.” 

MARCH 2, 1872. 

“To-day school closed (the district school, I mean) and in 
the afternoon I visited it. After rehearsals they had a 
‘ spelling bee;’ I spelled them- all down three times before 
the ‘ king ’ would give in, but after that he said he was satisfied. 

Bert Wilder was there, and this evening he carried four 
of us girls down to singing school at Fenton’s Corners; we 
had a jolly time, yet I am glad to get home.” 


THE JOURNAL. 


59 


MARCH 4, 1872. 

“To-day it stormed horridly, and I was much disappointed, 
for I intended to have gone to the school exhibition at the 
Corners, but when evening came, it stopped storming just 
in time; and with the calm, came Bert Wilder. I made 
ready on the double quick and we were soon on our way. 

The stars shone and the clouds all disappeared, but it was 
extremely cold. 

The exhibition was fine and the tableaus were exquisite, 
but I did not enjoy myself as I do sometimes. 

Merton Harwood had a part in the entertainment, but I 
do not think he saw me, and I do not care whether he did 
or not; I do feel so disgusted at his conduct of late. Just 
to think of his talking that trash to Bert Wilder. I guess 
when we do meet the greeting will be pretty cool, on my 
part, at least. He need not think I shall go twaddling 
around after him. Not much, Mary Ann, (that is slang, I 
know.) 

Then, that Bert Wilder, he is a good boy, but — mercy ! 
I never could endure him as a beau. Dear, dear ! how could 
Fan Andrus but then, she is different from me, anyway. 

You dear, old journal ! you have to hear all my complaints 
and all my buzzing, don’t you ? Well, you are the most 
discreet friend I have now, since I cannot have my dear, 
good sister Agnes. 

Wednesday eve, or March 13th, we had a grand leap year 
soiree at Ben Sweet’s. Most of the girls played the part of 
escort to perfection, but some of them had to ‘fizzle out;’ 


6o 


THE JOURNAL, 


such little cowards, you know. A little ride had been 
planned, but before the time appointed, the sky became 
overcast and the wind blew quite strong, so we had to dis- 
pense with it.” 

APRIL 3, 1872. 

“To-day I have been busy doing house-work, baking, and 
reading. This week I have been reading the life of Solomon 
Northrup, who was a mulatto, and a citizen of New York 
state, and Saratoga Springs; his mother died in Oswego 
county of the same state. 

While at Saratoga, a couple of strangers pretending to 
belong to a circus, which was then stationed at Washington, 
hired him to go with them to Washington, for the purpose 
of playing on the violin on such nights as they chose to stop 
for exhibition during their journey to the city. 

After reaching Washington he was taken suddenly sick 
and became insensible; during which, he was kidnapped 
and taken to ‘ Williams’ Slave Pen,’ and when he came to 
consciousness, he was in a cell, hand-cuffed and with fetters 
on his feet. 

Of course I cannot copy the book here, so must content 
myself by saying, Solomon suffered many things, and saw 
much trouble and misery among the poor slaves. To be 
sure some masters were kind, but many were very severe 
and cruel. 

The book appears the counterpart of ‘Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,’ and corresponds in facts to ‘Ida May.’ 

In the book he gives a description of cotton raising, 
which I am going to copy for reference. 


THE JOURNAL. 


6i 


* The ground is prepared by throwing up beds or ridges 
with the plow, back-furrowing it is called. Oxen and mules, 
the latter almost exclusively, are used in plowing. The 
women as frequently as the men, perform this labor, feeding, 
currying and taking care of their teams, and in all respects 
doing the field and stable work, precisely as do the plow- 
boys of the North. 

The beds or ridges are six feet wide, that is from water 
furrow to water furrow. A plow, drawn by one mule, is 
then run through the center of the bed making a drill, into 
which, a girl, usually, drops the seed, which she carries in a 
bag hung round her neck; behind her comes a mule and 
harrow covering up the seed; so that two mules, a plow, 
harrow and three slaves are employed in planting one row 
of cotton. 

This is done in the months of March and April (corn is 
planted in February). When there are no cold rains, the 
cotton usually makes its appearance in a week; in the course 
of eight or ten days the first hoeing commences. This is 
performed in part by the aid of a plow and mules: the plow 
passes as near as possible to the cotton on both sides, throw- 
ing the furrow from it; slaves follow with their hoes, cutting 
up grass and cotton, leaving hills two feet apart; this is 
called ‘ scraping cotton.’ 

In two weeks more commences the second hoeing: this 
time the furrov; is thrown towards the cotton and only the 
largest stalk is now left standing in each hill. 

In another fortnight it is hoed the third time, throwing 
the furrow towards the cotton, as before, killing all the grass 


62 


THE JOURNAL. 


between the rows. About the first of July, when it is about 
a foot high or thereabouts, it is hoed the fourth and last 
time. 

Now the whole space between the rows is plowed, leaving 
a deep water furrow in the center; thus the hoeing season 
continues from April to July. 

Cotton picking begins the latter part of August. A field 
is no sooner finished than they commence planting again. 
This is the end of cotton raising.’” 

APRIL 25, 1872. 

“ It is quite pleasant to-day notwithstanding it is cloudy; 
there is a south wind, but it is warm; I think perhaps it may 
rain before to-morrow. 

The snow is about disappeared; only a few banks by the 
hill-side remain to remind us of winter. 

While I am writing, the birds are carolling their songs of 
praise; their little throats seem to have been made pur- 
posely for song. How often I listen to their warbling 
notes and feel they are more grateful than I; they never 
seem weary of praising their Maker, while I, alas ! am too 
often ungrateful for the mercies which I receive. Oh ! 
Father, forgive; I desire to be grateful at all times. 

Beside the birds, spring has other attractions; the sugaring 
season, the wood-land flowers, green fields dotted with 
bright eyed dandelions, budding and flowering trees, balmy 
breezes and that indefinable something which pervades the 
whole; creeping into the heart of each and making them 
feel as if beginning life anew. 


THE JOURNAL. 


63 


It reminds one of the resurrection; for, after having been 
buried in the snow of winter, at the voice of spring, vegeta- 
tion comes forth, clad in new garments; and so we, after 
having lain in the grave, at the sound of our Savior’s voice, 
shall come forth clad in spiritual array, to begin a new and 
eternal life. 

‘ ’Tis spring and all around is gay.’ ” 

APRIL 28, 1872. 

“To-day, father, motherand I attended church. Rev. Mr. 

Waite, of , exchanged pulpits with our clergyman. 

The text was, Hebrews, xi, 4: ‘ He; being dead, yet speak- 

eth.’ These words express my idea of the power of in- 
fluence. A person may be dead, yet his influence still lives, 
and by that influence he speaks; directly to those with 
whom he associated while living, and indirectly to those 
with whom his associates mingle. 

Our influence or conduct has the same effect upon the sea 
of humanity as does the pebble dropped into the lake of 
water; only to a far greater extent, for the ripples of in- 
fluence go on and on forever, while the ripples of the water 
are at last checked by the shores. What a magnificent 
thought, what a glorious thought ! If we drop into the sea 
of humanity a goodly pearl of love or kindness, those gentle, 
loving ripples are eternally going on, on and on, making 
music in their roll. But oh, how terrible ! how awful in its 
magnitude is the effect of an ungainly stone of wickedness 
and vice dropped into this sea of humanity, rolling onward, 
ever onward, making jar and di.scord in its roll. 


64 


THE JOURNAL 


It is clearly illustrated by the life of oiir Saviof, who, 
while living here, exerted a goodly, a heavenly influence 
over his apostles, which followed them through life, and 
which by them was handed down to the succeeding genera- 
tion, and soon through each succeeding generation, for nearly 
nineteen centuries, making peace and happy music in its 
continual flow. 

The fond mother, who taught the infant lips to pfay, ad- 
vised and worked with all the maternal affections burning 
within her gentle bosom; anxious to have her children 
prepared to live and fitted to die, is at last called to her 
eternal home. Ah, how sadly she is missed from the home 
circle ! Those silvery tones in cadence sweet, are heard 
no more; but oh ! how often are the dear ones kept 
from evil by the hallowed influence of her life. Truly^, she 
being dead, yet speaketh. 

On the other hand, see the father training his children to 
curse and swear, to lie and steal— he dies, and behold, the 
result ! ‘ He, being dead, yet speaketh.’ But how ? In 
brawls and contentions, while the goodly influence, the 
Christ-like influence speaks fn harmony sweet; so soothing 
to the tired heart. 

By and by, aye, by and by we shall be dead, yet, shall we 
S];>eak. God grant it may be in words of love, in accents 
kind, so soothing to the mortal mind. 

Well now, young journal, do you not think I am getting 
to be quite a prCacher? Mind though, you do not tell it.’' 


TMR JOOkMAL 


65 


JUNE 5, 1872. 

“Oh June, beautiful June ! the pride of the year. Birds 
are singing gaily in your trees, that are clothed in rich 
vesture of green. The streams are less rapid in their 
Course and make a rippling Sound as they roll gently over 
their pebbly beds. 

CoWs are quietly grazing in the pastures, the sheep and 
lambs are bleating on the hillside. 

’Tis thou, oh queen of the year, that inspires us with a 
feeling of happiness and content. 

There now, I feel better, for I have praised that month 
no more than she deserves. She is my pet month, and if I 
should ever decide to become Mrs. Somebody, I should 
certainly choose that month for my bridal. 

But that is entirely out of the question, for Annis Warden 
is to be a prim old maid; teach school, be everybody’s 
friend, not a tattler, but a confident and adviser; a help to 
5^oung people in their love affairs if they get Into trouble 
and want a little manoeuvring; helping others to do What 
she cannot do for herself.” 

My dear reader, you have now caught a glimpse of Annis^ 
mind and heart by reading these few pages of her journal, 
where she freely and innocently penned her thoughts and 
feelings. But we soon find her in other fields. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ANNIS AS A TEACHER. 


“Teacher, watch the little feet, 

Climbing over the garden wall, 

Bounding through the busy street, 

Ranging cellar, shed and hall. 

Never count the moments lost. 

Never mind the time ’twill cost. 

Little feet will go astray. 

Guide them, Teacher, while you may.” 

— A. O. P. Guffies. 

VTOVEMBER, 1872, found Annis in B as teacher in a 

rural district. Her school consisted of twenty pupils, 
mostly boys. 

It was in a snowy locality, and as she was several miles 
from Cherry Grove, she did not anticipate the most pleasant 
winter so far as society was concerned, yet she enjoyed her 
school very much. 

She boarded with one Mr. Van Auk’s family, who resided 
only about a quarter of a mile from the school house. Mrs. 
Van Auk was a very agreeable hostess, endeavoring to 
make all as pleasant as possible; she as well as Annis was 
very fond of reading and they spent many social evenings. 


A Arms ASA ta:achek. 


67 


Not long after Annis’ sojourn in the land of snow, as she 
called it, she met with Mr. Emery, a stylish, intelligent and 
conscientious young widower, who soon became quite in- 
fatuated with Miss Warden, the new school mistress. 

Mr. Van Auk, being a decided friend of Emery’s, rather 
exerted himself in the young man’s favor; in fact, joking 
Annis of the said young gentleman, before she had met him. 

One evening, as Annis and Mrs. Van Auk were enjoying 
the twilight, the tinkling of bells came floating on the air. 
Looking out, Annis saw Mr. Emery, with his fine turnout, 
coming up street. She watched and soon saw him turn 
into the long drive which led to Van Auk’s cottage. He 
spent the evening, then came again. 

Every time Emery found himself in the society of Annis, 
he beheld in her some new charm, and felt that her un- 
assuming ways, intelligent conversation, and sincere yet 
prepossessing manners were forming an attraction altogether 
pleasant and desirable, yet dangerous to himself. 

Often did he resolve that he would not visit her again in 
some time, but as often would the desire to see the bewitch- 
ing little lady, overcome all other argument of better judg- 
ment, and as soon as ever civility would allow, some excuse 
was concocted and over to see her he went. 

On the other hand, Annis was fond of society. Mr. 
Emery was a man of very good reputation, used to good 
society, the son of a well-to-do farmer, possessing genteel 
and agreeable manners, Christian principles, and, in short, 


68 


ANMl^ A TkAC^lEk. 


was a real gentleman, and as such Annis held Mr. Emery 
in high esteem. 

But as for loving a widower, or being anything to him 
ttlore than a friend. Was entirely beyond her intentions; and 
When week after Week passed and Mr. Emery continued to 
show her marked attention, and at last claimed the right to 
be jealous of her attentions to another gentleman, at a 
social, one evening, she then thought he was too zealous 
and feared he was contemplating something more than 
“ merely whiling away time,” and to save him and herself 
embarrassment, declined to receive his attentions afterward. 

They remained friends, however, and he paid her his 
farewell visit at the close of her school, when they parted 
with the best of wishes for each other. 

Annis was not a fool-hearted girl, throwing out induce* 
rnents to yoUng men, leading them on until they should 
have learned to love her, and then give them in return a 
jilt; she thought too much of the human family to wish to 
cause a single heart pain on her account. 

And that is why she felt so plagued and sometimes almost 
provoked at George Blaine. She would gladly have treated 
him as a friend, but he insisted upon being treated as a 
lover, which he was, but not accepted. She knew he was 
in earnest, she pitied him sincerely and availed herself of 
every possible means to show him his mistake, perhaps 
folly. 

She did not glory in his disappointment, far from it; but 
rather prayed God to keep him from disappointment and 
teach him to forget. 


ANNIS AS A TEACf/ER. 


69 


After twelve short weeks her school closed, and she re- 
turned to Cherry Grove, where she soon engaged to teach, 
the ensuing summer, in the adjoining district to that in 

which her parents had formerly lived in P , and was to 

commence about the middle of April, then in the year of ’73. 

Annis met Harwood several times, during her stay at the 
Grove, out in society, but now they met as strangers, merely 
exchanging the compliments of the day. 

At first Annis felt keenly Harwood’s indifference and in- 
attention, but Annis’ independency was scarcely excelled; 
and feeling indignant as well as hurt, she merely bestowed 
upon him such attention as politeness positively required; 
giving him ample reason to believe she was not dying from 
his neglect. 

Annis felt that the love she at once entertained for Har- 
wood was fast dying out, and that it would be a great 
satisfaction when the last ember should have dropped into 
ashes, for then she would wrap them in the silken tissue of 
the past, tie them with a string of heartfelt, girlish folly, 
and lay them away in the laboratory of her heart to be 
looked over, in the future, among other collections of 
curiosities. 

The time arrived for Annis to take her departure for 

P ; the last farewell was spoken and she seated in the 

carriage to be driven to the depot, where she soon arrived 
and took passage for town. 

At the latter place she was met by the trustee, an elderly 
gentleman and old friend of her father’s. 


70 


ANxYIS AS A 7'EAC/IER. 


After ten miles drive they reached the home of Mr. 
Bowen, (the trustee) and which was to be Annis’ home 
during the summer. 

It was Saturday evening when Annis arrived at Mr. 
Bowen’s and the next day she and Heman Bowen, a young 
man, a few years her senior, attended church, and the after- 
noon was spent by Heman and Annis in singing and play- 
ing in the parlor of the Bowen cottage. Heman was fond 
of music as well at Annis, and as he had a nice organ they 
enjoyed it; so much so, that evening found them quite 
friends. 

Monday morning Heman drove Annis to the school 
house, which was one of the neatest, modern school build- 
ings, surrounded by a spacious yard, at the rear of which 
was a fine maple grove, for which reason Annis christened 
the place. Maple Grove Seminary. 

Here Annis found herself surrounded by uncles and 
aunts, great uncles and aunts and cousins numerous, who 
put forth every endeavor to make her stay with them 
pleasant, and so well did they succeed, that she now declares 
that was the most delightful summer of her recollection. 

Maple grove school consisted of eighteen registered 
pupils. Here Annis swayed the sceptre of love, and found 
in her pupils fitting subjects for such a rule. 

Time was fully occupied by our friend, attending to 
school duties, going to pleasure excursions, receiving and 
returning calls, spending social evenings and making Sat- 


ANNIS AS A TEACHER. 


71 


urday afternoon visits among her many friends, until June 
20, when something occurred of more than ordinary interest. 

It was heralded about something after the following and 
in various other ways: “Did you know P. T. Barnum is 

coming to town on the twentieth?” Yes, we knew, for 

it was the subject of conversation for days and days before. 

The school children were nearly all going to the menagerie, 
and as Annis felt inclined to do the same, school was sus- 
pended on that eventful day. 

The morning of June 20, 1873, dawned bright and clear. 
Early were the people astir, for the most of them were dairy 
farmers, and considerable necessary work had to be accom- 
plished before they could start to see the wonderful. 

Annis, in company with one of her cousins, reached the 
town in time to see the grand parade. 

The parade was nothing to the great mass of people 
collected there to see it. In the early part of the day, Annis 
learned that her father and mother were there, and they 
also learned of her presence, but in that sea of thronging 
humanity, they each sought the other throughout the entire 
day, but to no avail, and Annis was obliged to return to her 
boarding place without seeing them. 

Almost every one is familiar with P. T. Barnum’s name 
if not his menagerie, and it is useless for me to say aught 
in favor or against; but I will say, it called out the greatest 
crowd of people ever before known within that city’s limits. 

At twilight, when Annis had reached her cousin’s, and 
was seated upon the porch with her cousin, George Fox, 


72 


ANNIS AS A TEACHER. 


who was just tuning up his violin, whom should she see 
driving up but her father and mother; 

She skipped through the yard like a fawn and met them 
at the gate. She was almost wild with delight for she had 
not then seen them for weeks and had not recovered from 
her disappointment at not finding them at town. 

Many were the caresses exchanged between the girl and 
each fond parent, who seemed about as pleased as Annis. 

The next day was spent in visiting, and the following day 

Annis accompanied them to her aunt Fitzhugh’s at L , 

where she saw Agnes, and after a pleasant day returned to 
her summer home. 

On the fourth of July Annis visited Cherry Grove and 
remained three days, at the end of which she returned to 
“ Maple Grove Seminary,” where she remained until the 
close of her school. 

Soon after the fourth. Bell Doane visited Annis at P . 

Bell was one of Annis’ old playmates and school mates at 

home, and, as she was visiting about ten miles from P , 

she decided to spend a few days with Annis. 

Bell arrived on Wednesday, and, on the following Satur- 
day she and Annis visited the Ausman mansion, which was 
then occupied by Annis’ uncle Franz. 

Bell was very ecstatic over the massive, and antique 
structure of the mansion and its surroundings and especially 
the large and handsome chambers. 

That afternoon they called on Will Ausman, one of 
Annis’ cousins, and on their arrival found a stranger 


ANNIS AS A 7'EACHER. 


73 


present, who upon introduction, proved to be Annis’ second 
cousin, St. Albertson, of Hamilton, Ontario, and whom she 
had not seen since they were children. 

The young cavalier had left home and come there to re- 
gain his health in accordance with the advice of physicians 

St. Albertson had grown into a fair looking young man of 
medium height with dark complexion, merry grey eyes, 
Grecian nose, dark hair and mustache. Although in ill 
health, he displayed quick wit and easy manners, which 
soon made him quite a favorite in young society, especially 
as his conversation was very apropos and spicy. 

The four spent the afternoon in playing croquet until 
aunt Nancy Ausman announced supper. 

Bell remained a week and each evening was spent in 
visiting, playing croquet or having instrumental and vocal 
music, et eaetera. 

One evening, after Bell and Annis had retired to rest, 
(they were at the mansion) they were aroused by sweet 
strains of music floating in through the open casements^ 
upon the evening breeze. They arose and stepped to the 
casements, where they were able to ascertain whence it came. 

Will and St. Albertson were singing Home, sweet Home, 
while St. Albertson was playing an accompaniment upon an 
accordeon. They were at Will’s home and the distance was 
just sufficient to allow naught but the sweetest strains to- 
reach the young ladies, who stood in almost breathless 
silence, listening to that old, yet ever new and beloved 
piece. 


74 


ANNIS AS A TEACHER. 


The two appeared like statues and might well have been 
taken for an apparition, as each stood by a separate case- 
ment, so motionless and white, peering out into that clear, 
beautiful moonlight evening, where all appeared at rest and 
nothing* was heard save the music and the slight rustling of 
the poplar leaves, as the zephyrs tossed them to and fro. 

A geat tear found its way to each black and each blue 
eye of the listeners, as sweet memories arose and threw 
hallowed influences about the twain, who, when the last 
strain died away, turned and clasping each other in fond 
embrace, their eyes sparkling, exclaimed, “Oh, wasn’t it 
lovely ? Wasn’t it deliciously sweet ?” 

Skipping across the carpeted floor of their spacious ap- 
partment, they threw themselves upon their waiting cots 
and were soon off to dreamland; not however, until Annis 
had remarked that the- music reminded her of that men- 
tioned m Mrs. Radclilfe’s Mysteries of Udolpho, where it 
came at night time in such symphony, welling upon the 
breezes from near the blue waves of the Mediterranean to 
the spacious and elegant halls of Chateau le Blanc. 

The week rolled round and Bell bade adieu to the new 
scenes which had so much pleased her, leaving Annis a 
little lonely for a time. 

However much Annis wished them to linger, yet the 
weeks rolled past and the last day of school came, bringing 
some joy but more remorse. The children, after sixteen 
weeks of confinement in school, were glad of a vacation, 
but sorry to part with their loved friend and companion; 


ANNIS AS A TEACHER. 


75 


while Annis’ heart ached at the thought of separation from 
that little band she so dearly loved, and well she knew they 
would never, all, meet again. 

With a sad heart she gave to each a little token of her 
love, and a memento of their good behavior and well learned 
lessons. 

In a few well-directed remarks she solicited them to pur- 
sue their studies vigorously while in youth, as time then 
wasted could never be recalled, however much lamented in 
after years. 

That a few moments then, well used, were worth more 
than hours spent in acquiring knowledge when they had 
grown older and become engrossed with worldly cares. 

She also enjoined upon them the necessity of spending 
their lives well, here below, if they would enjoy eternal 
happiness, and urged them so to live, that they might be 
gathered an unbroken band in the heavenly mansions, of 
which they had so often read. Then, bidding them a 
general good-bye, they were dismissed. 

Thus ended the last day spent by Annis in “Maple Grove 
Seminary.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


A CITY HOME. 

“Home is the sacred refuge of our life.” 

— Dry den. 

J ANUARY 1,1874, finds the Wardens settled in a city we will 
call Ricksport, where Annis was to fit herself more thor- 
oughly for teaching. With all her pleasures and studies 
Annis still found time to visit some of the poor, and instruct 
some of those more ambitious to improve than their oppor- 
tunities admitted. She found pleasure in visiting some of 
those who were debarred from Sabbath worship at church; 
she read the word of God with them and prayed with them, 
and held a sort of little Sunday School with the children. 

Perhaps we could give a better idea of her work and her- 
self by reading some of her letters to her sister friend, Agnes 
Welch. 

Ricksport^ January., — 1874. 

Dear Sister Aggie: — 

I received your very welcome letter and am so pleased 
you are happy and well. How thankful you should be that 
God has given you such a lover as Will Martin. I, do hope 


A CITY HOME. 


77 


if you marry him he will endeavor to lead a zealous, Chris- 
tian life and aid you in that precious life with Christ, which 
not only makes us happy but useful creatures; happy in 
doing and making others happy. Do you know, dear, I am 
never happier than when I am doing something to benefit 
and make others happy. 

To be sure, Aggie, I never reach my ideal, exactly, only 
when I meet Jesus. And I do meet Him and have sweet 
communion with Him; then I wish I could always remain 
with Him, but earthly matters soon call me and before I 
know it I have done or said something so far from what He 
would have done, that I feel almost discouraged. But then, 
you know my home in heaven does not depend on my good 
works, but simply on God’s love and Jesus’ death and resur- 
rection. How happy it m^akes me that God loves me, Jesus 
loves me and the Holy Spirit loves me. Were it not for this 
great love I could not be saved, for I am but frailty itself 
and can do nothing, absolutely nothing, of myself. 

How very small and insignificant I feel when I stop to 
think of my inability to do anything of myself; for you see 
if I do any good it is by Jesus’ help, and if evil it is satan’s 
help. Now do not think from this that I mean we are mere 
machines, with no choice in the matter, for God has endowed 
us with a power to choose. So we may choose God for our 
help, or rather for our motive power, and all is well. 

Aggie dear, do pray that I may have more and more of 
the love of Christ in me, and be made more useful in His 
service. Also for Jesus’ loving, abiding presence with me; 
I so long to have Him all the time with me. 


78 


A CITY HOME. 


I presume you would like to know howl occupy my time. 
Of course I have my studies to attend to;- then certain even- 
ings I have some little pupils, (they are poor children, who 
work through the day and are desirous of more learning.) 
I visit them at home Sunday afternoons, for their friends, 
on whom they depend for a support, are Roman Catholics 
and do not wish them to attend Protestant churches; their 
mother is a Protestant widow and will not let them go to 
the Catholic school, so they remain at home, and we have a 
little meeting all our own. 

I also visit the Old Ladies’ Home, and have some very 
dear friends among them. I read the Bible, sometimes other 
religious works, and usually have prayers. Oh, it makes me 
happy to have their love and blessings. Oh, that I could do 
. more work for Jesus, my dear brother, who did so much for 
me; my work seems such a wee mite. 

Now, dear, I hope I have not wearied you. May God’s 
richest blessings be upon you now and evermore. 

Your loving sister, 

Annis Warden. 

Here we see a young lady, who with all her other duties, 
finds time for genuine Christian work. She does not spend 
every precious moment in doing fancy work, making gossip- 
ing calls or primming and dressing herself for mere show. If 
every lady would only do a little Christian work outside her 
home, how much might be accomplished. 

Yes, Annis visited the Old Ladies at the Home, most of 
whom were away from relatives, and lonely in a certain sense. 


A CITY HOME. 


79 


Did she do this because of their genial society ? Scarcely 
that, but because it pleased them to see her young face and 
bright ways, and hear her fresh voice in reading or talking. 
It pleased them for the time, it amused them with pleasant 
memories after she had gone home. And did she have no 
pleasure in those ? Yes, much pleasure, because she was 
making them happier, and more than that, she was doing her 
Master s will, which latter fact always makes anyone happy. 

And when Annis left Ricksport the many blessings of the 
ladies followed her: also their prayers. And when she lis- 
tened to their fervent “ God bless you, dear,” she was more 
than paid for her little efforts to cheer them. 

Since then, several of her friends at the Home, have 
passed from pain and sorrow to rest with God, but Annis 
still holds kindly thoughts of the departed, as also of the 
living, and her prayer is that the Heavenly Father will be 
their stay and comfort in their old age, and their Hope Star, 
Peace and Rock of Salvation in death. 

As I have remarked elsewhere, Annis was fond of com- 
position, and occasionally the spell induced her to produce 
it in rhyme, of which the following is a copy: 

“THE SNOW shower.” 

“ As I on my cot dreamily lay 
And look forth to see the early day, 

What is it that attracts my eager eye 
As I gaze upward, toward the sky ? 

I look a moment, then think I know, 

It is the myriad flakes of snow; 

And which are in such a commotion, 

This earth must have rolled into an ocean 
Of snow. 


8o 


A CITY HOME. 


Quickly and silently do they fall, 

Covering o’er this terrestial ball; 

As with a mother’s kind, gentle hand 
They cover the roughness of our land ; 

Ruts and holes unpleasant to be seen 
Are hidden by this lovely snowy screen, 

Like a sword hidden within its sheath. 

So the grass and flowers lie beneath 
The snow. 

Dear ones, think of the ease and grace 
With which each flake fills its destined place; 

Who can behold such a shower as this 
And not feel quite enraptured with bliss ? 

Does it not show the same guiding hand 
That leadeth thro’ life His children band ! 

Oh, may we have the same ease and grace 
When summoned to leave this earthly place 
And go to Him in heaven.” 

.While at Ricksport Annis formed the friendship of two 
young ladies, which she still retains. They were entirely 
different, yet each was dear in her own peculiar way. 

Mary De Lion was of medium height, stout build, with a 
practical intellect, great determination and little romance, 
yet full of genuine, steadfast love for her friends, even to 
the calling out of self-sacrifice. 

Sarah Barclay was tall, with clusters of dark brown ring- 
lets, which bobbed and danced, keeping time with the merry 
glance of her eyes, and the lively chatter of her tongue. 
Full of vivacity and life, jolly, sometimes to excess, yet lov- 
ing and affectionate in her ways. Whatever she undertook 
she entered into with all her might, but quite liable to change 
her mi.nd. 


A CITY HOME. 


8i 


These three were great lovers of Nature and often strolled 
out of town to mount sonie hill and take perspective views, 
or gather wild flowers in some shady grove. 

Sarah had had some love affair and thought she should 
never marry, but seemed quite determined to enter a con- 
vent, which she did after leaving Ricksport. 

Mary and Annis frequently walked together the length 
of the block, in which Mr. Warden lived, when the round, 
full moon threw her halo of beauty over all; her bright, 
silvery rays falling with a softened splendor on all unshaded 
objects, and making shadowy objects seem so mysterious 
and unreal. Sending her soft, shimmering light through 
the overspreading tree tops, to rest like a carpet on the 
walk, over which the young friends passed and repassed, in 
pleasant converse. 

As our friends, so have many others, enjoyed God’s 
beautiful creation. And these happy, yea, thrice happy days 
sped, like others, away to the past. How we cherish the 
sweet memories of those school days, now past, but never 
to be forgotten. Thoughts of them come to us like echoes 
of distant chimes; they are just far enough distant to bring 
to us only the sweet harmony, with none of the jars or 
clashings. Like departed friends, we remember only their 
charms. 

The school days past, and these three friends separated, 
eafch to pursue a different mode of life; yet each working 
in her way for the one great Master. 

Sarah Barclay, after being in the convent for about two 
years, came out and entered a hospital, preparing herself for 


82 


A CITY HOME. 


missionary work in India, whither she went in the fall of 
’79 or ’80. 

Annis and her people returned to Cherry Grove, and Mary 
De Lion to her home in Fenton’s Corners, where in the 
course of time she married a merchant and became the happy 
mother of two boys and three girls. 

A year from the summer succeeding Miss Barclay’s de- 
parture from America, she wrote Annis the following letter, 
which may prove of interest to our readers: 

Z^egofie, August . 

Dear Sister Annis: — 

I was just delighted to get your letter and photo; it so 
recalls old times at Ricksport. In thought I again tread 
the dear, old streets and see the faces of “ ye olden times.” 
Where is Leon Ashley, with his auburn curls and blithe- 
some ways ? Do you keep track of him yet ? And Mary 
De Lion, with her plain, straightforward ways; has she 
turned matron yet and wedded the best man ever you saw ? 
Remember me most kindly to her when you see her. You 
see, dear, ‘‘ I’m single and free, nor married do I wish to 
be;” I am just as full of frolic and life as ever, only I use 
my life for a different purpose than I used to do. As, for 
instance, last week, in a hard rain, I marched off five miles 
into the jungle on a preaching tour. Was taken ill, but 
there was no use in lying down in a native hut to die, so I 
marched over the rice swamps back home. While going we 
had three showers, and between the showers the sun shone 
so hot that my clothes just steamed. However, the bath- 


A CITY HOME. 


83 


ing and steaming seemed to do me good, for I felt better; 
and praise God I did not have a sickness, either. 

I belong to the medical department, and when any of the 
missionaries are ill I have to go and nurse them until they 
are well. When your letter came I was away on such an 
errand. Cared for a lady nine weeks. The M. D. said I 
was one of the means of saving her life; so I am of som.e 
good in the world, if it is but little. 

When I am not engaged in nursing, I assist in school and 
Sunday school work, spicing every kind of work with the 
Master’s words and love. 

The natives are as simple as children are in our country, 
even the oldest. So our work must be made as easy as 
possible. I think the children, after once being started, 
learn quite readily. 

I have learned to speak, read and write the Burmese, but 
of course not fluently, it is much harder than Greek; be- 
sides, we do not have good books nor good teachers, to 
help us to learn rapidly. 

You know, dear, we have two seasons here, the wet and 
dry; the wet begins from the loth to the 24th of May and 
continues from five to six months. During the rainy season 
when the sun shines it simply scorches, causing the atmos- 
phere to be just filled with steam. When the dry season is 
on, there are weeks that the temperature is 105 degrees. 

We wear nothing but muslin dresses in dry seasons, and 
as light clothing as possible. During the wet seasons we 
use flannel dresses on account of the great damp. The 


84 


A CITY HOME. 


natives allow their children to be nude until about ten years 
of age. The women wear very short skirts and scarfs. 
The men only wear a small garment about the loins, some- 
thing like the circus men wear over their tights; but theirs 
are not bangled and spangled. 

The men, who do manual labor, are called coolies\ those 
who care for the ponies, (horses are not able to live here) 
are called sices. If a lady goes out for a ride, she is always 
followed by a sice on foot; if the pony trots he does the 
same. He will run about as fast as a pony can trot. 

Dir-ga means a dressmaker or tailor; a ayah (i-yah) means 
a nurse; chokra^ and errand boy; ma-tromey., a sweeper; 
wallah^ a man and a poney-wallah is a water-man or carrier- 
A con-sanner means a head servant of an eating department; 
and that calls to mind some of the dishes we have to eat. 
Rice is not only the staple grain but also a staple food, and 
these C 07 i-sar 77 iers can cook rice better than any American I 
ever saw; they serve it in various ways. Currey is a nice 
kind of gravy, very highly spiced, and served with meat and 
rice. They use a great deal of spice, pepper and brandy in 
cooking. Much less meat is used here than there. It is 
principally game. 

Knats are supposed evil spirits, whom the natives appease 
by offerings of rice, flowers, fruit, et caetera. 

Their God is called Budha, and each Budha reigns 5,000 
years, and there are to be five Budha’s, hence time with 
them is to be about 25,000 years. 


I CITY HOME. 


85 


Now, dear, I must bring this lengthy letter to a close, 
hoping you will write soon and often. Remember my 
letters cost eleven cents postage, yours five. See, eh ? 

Do not forget to pray for me and my v/ork; also try and 
interest your friends in our behalf. 

A few samples of fancy needle work or lace work will 
not come amiss as our girls are quite fond of fancy work 
and it helps to draw them into the schools. 

I will tell you more of our Burmah home, sometime. 

With love, 

Sarah Barclay. 


CHAPTER X. 


IN COLORADO. 

“ When eve is purpling cliff and cave, 

Thoughts of the heart; how soft ye flow ! 

Not softer on the western wave 
The golden lines of sunset glow. 

Then all by chance or fate removed, 

Like spirits crowd upon the eye, — 

The few we liked, the one we loved, — 

And the whole heart is memory.’’ 

— Rev. George Croly. 

UAVING graduated, Merton Harwood taught for the 
^ space of two years, at the end of which time^having 
become of age, and his father having presented him with a 
small endowment, he decided to enter the uncertain fields 
of speculation. 

Accordingly, he bade adieu to home and friends; betook 
himself to the West and by dint of careful buying and good 
sales managed in the course of a few years, to nearly double 
his endowment. 

During Harwood’s two years tutorship at Fenton’s Cor- 
ners, occurred an estrangement between himself and Annis 
Warden; so, at his departure for the West, between them 


IN COLORADO. 


87 


no sad farewells were spoken, no loving promises made; no, 
not even a loving look or gentle pressure of the hand to 
smooth the roughness of their estrangement; while, alle- 
gorically speaking, their young hearts were rent asunder 
by the righteous work of that notorious band of hypocrites 
known as “ gossipers.” 

After Harwood’s departure, Annis despaired of again 
seeing him as an admirer, for in all probability, she argued, 
when he returns he will bring with him the future Mrs. 
Merton Harwood. 

Hope, consoling angel that she is, whispered of other 
possibilities; upon which frail thread, Annis was obliged to 
lean for support in this, to her, lonely hour. 

On the other hand, Harwood’s comfort was in the possi- 
bility that Annis might still be free, heart and hand, when 
he should return; that he, then, might woo and win the, to 
him, more than fair little maiden. 


“ Well, Mert of what are you thinking, this bright, starry 
night, here, alone in your den, smoking a cigarrette, as glum 
and mum as a natural born mute ? ” 

“Why, Bpb, I was thinking of the ‘ old times’ and home; 
just as you entered, so unceremoniously breaking into my 
solitudes.” 

“ Beg pardon, your highness,” said the gentleman ad- 
dressed as Bob, at the same time making a low bow. 

“ Not at all, my dear sir ; only, it is well you are not 
somebody less privileged, or you might have beaten a more 


88 


IN COLORADO. 


hasty retreat than entrance: however, since it is yourself, 
pray be seated and make yourself comfortable, old fellow,” 
remarked the first person addressed, who was none other than 
our friend Merton Harwood, at his inn, in a small town of 
Colorado, where he made his headquarters. 

The person addressed as “ Bob,” was Robert Hastings, a 
well-bred, kind hearted, generous young man of free and 
easy manner, and a particular chum of Harwood’s, being 
nearly the same age. 

Having seated himself and lighted his cigarette, to keep 
his friend company in puffing the odorous waves out of the 
window, upon the gentle evening breeze, he again remarked: 
“ Say, Mert, why is it you always appear so demurely, when 
thinking of the ‘ old times ’ and home; are you homesick, or 
did you' leave a bonnie lassie, lovely, fair, out in old York 
state, for whose presence you long and sigh ?” 

Stopping a moment, but receiving no response, he con- 
tinued: “Or did you come here a refugee, seeking consola- 
tion in banishment, as a love lorn swain ? Come, out with 
it, for since our acquaintance, I have seen too many indica- 
tions of something, and now no excuses will do; nothing 
short of an open confession will satisfy my imaginative 
mind.” 

Merton was gazing starward, but after a moment’s silence, 
he said: “ What on earth, Bob, made you talk of my being 
a love lorn swain ? Do you not know that I never seek 
unmarried ladies society, nor married ladies either, as for 
that matter, except a few like your mother, who are so 


IN COLORADO. 


89 


motherly and kind, no one can help loving and respecting 
them.” 

“ Oh yes, I know, but that you do not seek, does not sig- 
nify, to me, that you never sought^' replied Hastings with 
a smile and peculiar stress upon the verb expressed in its 
different tenses. 

A slight color suffused Harwood’s cheeks as he saw the 
turn Hastings had put upon his words, but he said nothing, 
arid Hastings continued, “ besides, when a fellow gets senti- 
mental, sings snatches of old love songs, and then sighs, a 
sorry like sigh, with that woe-begone expression, look out, 
for the signs are all against him.” 

“Bob Hastings, if I thought you said that to insult me, I 
should be tempted to challenge you to a shot,” exclaimed 
Harwood, his color rising, not with anger, but blushes. 

“Insult you! what about?” rejoined Hastings. “About 
singing love songs and all that bosh,” replied Merton, 
smilingly. 

“ Oh !” ejaculated Robert, banteringly, pleased that his 
friend was not angry, “ beg pardon, monsieur, but actions 
sometimes speak louder than words; so now ‘old man’ out 
with it, make me the recipient of your confidence, and possi- 
bly I may be of some service to your highness.” 

“ Well, — I will make you the recipient of my confidence, 
since you are so solicitous,” said Harwood, meditatively, 
“ but if I ever hear of your telling, off goes your head, 
mind that.” 


go 


IN COLORADO. 


“ Oh ! of course, of course,” replied Hastings, with the 
greatest apparent satisfaction at not having a greater menace. 

“ You see,” continued Harwood, giving his cigarette an 
extra pull, “you see, when I was a little chap, I went to 
school — ” “ One of the most natural things in the world,” 

chimed in Robert, with mock gravity, while the corners of 
his mouth showed indications of an upward movement, and 
his eyes twinkled merrily. 

“And,” continued Harwood, “among the little girls was 
one I could not help liking, and in all our childlike plays, 
I liked best to have her for my partner. As time sped on, 
the liking grew stronger, and to cap the climax, when she 
was some fifteen years old we both attended Jacksonville 
school; that finished me. I then learned that without her 
I could not be happy.” 

“I paid her my ‘ distresses,’ and I fancied she enjoyed them ; 
but when we left school, for some reason we became es- 
tranged, and from having heard various reports, I did not 
seek an interview, which she seemed to avoid. Still, my 
heart will not cease its aching, and conscience will repri- 
mand me for not coming out boldly and asking her for an 
interview, which might have explained all; and so it is that 
to-night I am lonely without her.” 

“ Perfectly natural, for where the treasure is, there is the 
heart also,” remarked Robert, “but,” he continued, “you 
have not yet told the name of your little fairy queen.” 
“ Her name is Annis Warden,” replied. Merton, as Robert 
waited for an answer. 


IN COLORADO. 


91 


“ Annis Warden, eh ! by jove, that is a novel name; guess 
her people took the name from some story, didn’t they ?” 
“ I don’t know, as to that; but I do know its a novel girl 
that answers to the name,” said Merton, emphazing his 
remark by a nod of the head. 

“ Yes, but what on earth does that signify, so long as she 
has gone back on you ?” 

“ She has not gone back on me so far as I know; besides, 
it is pleasant to think of her good and funny ways, whether 
she has forgotten me or not,” remarked Harwood, as if re- 
ceiving consolation in sweet reminiscences. 

“So it is,” said Robert, sobering a little; for what young 
man ever lived to be twenty-three and not have a signora 
to bother him in some one way or another ? 

After a few moments silence Hastings asked, “ Did this 
lady ever accept the attentions of any other gentleman ?” 

“ She did not up to the time I came away, only in a general 
way; although there was one, who seemed bent on making 
people believe he was her accepted lover, but I know better, 
for she never would have him, I know,” replied Harwood. 

After a little silence Hastings exclaimed: “ I’ll bet I have 
it ! that fellow set yarns afloat, one way and another, on 
purpose to upset things between you and her, so his chance 
might be the better; and then there are always newsmong- 
ers enough to carry yarns and spin them longer. I’ll bet 
the cigars that’s the way it was done,” and bringing his 
hand down on the window sill, with some vehemence, he 
added: “I’ve seen just such doings before, the lying, tat- 


92 


IN COLORADO. 


tling “ Hold on, Rob, you are getting excited.” ‘‘ I 

know it, and I always do when I get to thinking, for I had 
an experience similar to yours, and the misunderstanding 
all grew out of the infernal wagging of gossiping tongues, 
and it makes me so mad, I can scarcely contain myself when 
I think of it.” 

“ I believe you are right,” said Merton, as Robert stopped 
for a breath, “but it is best to keep cool and make the best 
of it. I do now think, that George Blaine instigated a good 
share of the news purposely to gain his object, which he did 
in part, at least, for it somehow formed a barrier between us. 
But it’s done, and can’t be undone.” 

“ Do not be so despondent, Mert, for Gracie and I are on 
the best of terms now, although I came mighty nigh loosing 
her at one time; and that is what makes me so mad when 
I* recall it. And I’ll bet the oysters you and Miss Warden 
will make up yet.” 

“ I’ll take that bet; and mind, if we do, I shall not mind 
giving you two plates of the little chubs,” responded Har- 
wood, with a smile and a wink. 

“All right, don’t you forget it,” said Robert, and then the 
conversation drifted into other channels. The clock on the 
mantle indicated eleven, when Robert bade his friend good 
night, and went away whistling “The Gal I left behind me.” 

“ Well, I declare, I wish I felt as chirk as he does,” said 
Merton as he prepared to retire. Communing with himself 
he reviewed the pleasant hours spent with Annis; then the 
cool reserve, which had sprung up between them, and then 


IN COLORADO. 


93 


the diverging of their life paths, at which point he mentally 
denounced himself as a complete idiot for not having gone 
to Annis and offered himself as her suitor; then, said he, 
she would have had either to accept or reject me. Had she 
offered her age an an objection, why I could have waited 
until she became of proper age; had she loved me (and I half 
believe she did), and not been living in this gross uncer- 
tainty of the present. 

Supposing she is free when I return, then I shall have to 
take my chances in proposing, or I shall never know; and 
she, not knowing that I have a thought for her, will proba- 
bly learn to love another, forgetting me even as a friend. 

I might write I suppose — but no, I will not. No girl 
shall ever get me to write a proposal, so she can have it to 
show and laugh at, because I made such a fool of myself in 
that way. No, a thousand times no; better, by far, go home 
for a visit, manage to see her for a few times, make some 
estimate of appearances, and then, if I deem it prudent, take 
my chances of utter annihilation by her majesty’s loyalty. 
Yes, that’s it exactly, and home I’ll go. 

Having reached a decision he soon fell asleep to dream 
of a vine covered cottage, filled with merry young people, 
among whom he espied his fairy queen, who smiled sweetly 
and waved her hand; then followed a medley of proposals 
and wedding-bells. 


CHAPTER XI. 


ITEMS, OR ANNIS’ POEMS. 


UAVING returned to Cherry Grove, Annis devoted con- 
siderable time to reading, letter and essay writing. Con- 
sidering the power of words, one day she penned the 
following. 

ONE WORD. 

One little word in accents kind 
How oft it floats across our mind 
With feelings sweet and holy; 

While another, in harsher tone 
Draws on our heart a load like stone, 

Leaving it sad and lowly. 

Oh, let us guard each word and look 
As if we wrote them in a book 
So proper, gentle and kind; 

That when our friends no more we see. 

And they no more, with us, can be. 

Sad remorse, fill not your mind. 


Be sure you always keep in view 
The work a single word can do 
To cause or check a trouble; 
Be sure you never say nor do 


ITEMS. 


95 


What others may not say to you; 

Then work, for good will double. 

A single word, gentle spoken, 

May heal the heart that’s nearly broken, 

And aid it to live again: 

So freely give, with no alloy. 

What gives to others so much joy. 

And the loss will be but gain. 

If by a word we heal a heart, 

And take from it the sorrow’s smart, 

’Tis, surely, worth the giving. 

If, by a little lump of leaven 
We raise a human soul to heaven. 

Our life is worth the living. 

Being called upon to write a poem for the thirtieth wed- 
ding anniversary of some friends, she arranged the following: 

AN ODE TO MR. AND MRS. F. J. S. 

Thirty golden moments, ticked off by the watch of Time, 

Thirty times the seasons have sped in rythmic rhyme; 

Thirty Springs the flowers have sprung up in their garden beds* 

To welcome you in the morning, by tossing their dainty heads. 

Thirty Junes the roses have bloomed about your door 
As symbols of the flowers which bloom forever more; 

Thirty times the Autumn trees have doffed their leafy vest, 

As we, with life’s labors ended, calmly lay us down to rest. 

Thirty Winter’s snows have dressed the earth in purest white. 

Making it resplendent, in the Sun’s great dazzling light; 

Thirty years of loving acts, faithfully woven in memory’s woof, 

Thirty years of self-denial, real affection’s surest proof. 

Thirty years of music, with its chords and discords rife, 

Echoing again and again through all our future life. 


96 


ITEMS. 


Thirty shining drops thrown into a beautiful crystal sea, 

Causing the ripples to rise and fall thro’ a grand eternity. 

May gem after gem be added, each year to the glittering coronet of love, 
Which Jesus is making for those who love Him, in the beautiful Eden, 
above. 

May He, there, be waiting, as we cross to the other side. 

To crown us each, for He shall be the Groom, and we the Bride. 

May none of us be missing, but all re-united stand 
To receive his gracious welcome to the Happy Spirit Land. 

For Annis’ sake we copy some of her dear, blind uncle’s 
little poems, which she valued so much as to keep among 
her treasures. 

THE BLIND MAN’S REVERIE. 

Dear Wife: — 

I’m thinking of the sunny time 
When you was young and fair; 

When first you promised to be mine. 

My love and home to share. 

I’m thinking of those halcyon days. 

That come and went so fast. 

Freighted with hope and joy and peace; 

But, ah ! they could not last. 

For sorrow came, and grief and woe, 

And waged a fearful fight; 

They dealt me such a cruel blow. 

And robbed me of my sight. 

Then, oh ' the darkness and the gloom 

That gathered o’er my mind; 

More»dreaded than the cold, dark tomb. 

To know that I was blind. 


ITEMS. 


But you was near, with ready hand 
To help, to lead and guide 

My weary footsteps o’er the way; 

Or else, I might have died. 

But, ah ! the separating time 
To us will come — full soon; 

Perchance, while you in glory shine, 

I may be left to mourn. 

But, soon, dear Gabriel’s trump I’ll hear 
Calling for me to come; 

And meet the savior in the air 
To hear Him say, “ Well done.” 

Then gladly, all of earth, adieu; 

More glorious by far — 

That I should, thus, go sweeping thro’ 

The golden gate, ajar. 

I’m thinking of that future time 
When we again shall meet. 

And, with loved ones, we shall shine 
Around the mercy seat. 

And there, with golden harps in hand, 

We’ll lay our burdens down. 

Then with the angels we shall stand 
And wear the golden crown. 

Then, with heavenly hosts, we’ll join 
In one, grand symphony of love; 

To the Father, Son, and to the Holy One, 
For a Home in the Mansions above. 

—C. S. 


ITEMS. 


THE MILLENIAL INVITATION. 

Come, Ihou weary, wandering pilgrim. 
Come from care and toil and strife: 
Come where joy, celestial springing. 

Raises thee to higher life. 

Come where angel whispers greet thee 
In thy onward, upward way. 

Come, with gospel jewels deck thee. 

For the great Millennial day. 

Come from fears and doubts and chidings, 
Come from sorrow, grief and pain. 
Come, and hear the glorious tidings, 
Christ, on earth, has come to reign. 

Come, for now the King of glory, 

Seated on His royal throne. 

Calls His own; to tell the story 
Of the wanderer coming home. 

Come, for now the glorious brightness 
Of the gospel’s truth, shall shine 
In thy heart with joy and gladness, 

Filling it with love divine. 

Come, for now thy toil is over. 

Come and with the angels sing 
Glory, glory hallelujah ! 

Glory, glory to our king. 

—C. S. 

THE BLIND MAN’S RETREAT. 

Is there a place where man can find 
A calm retreat, a peaceful mind ? 

From grief and woe and sin set free. 

And ever with the Lord to be ? 


ITEMS. 


99 


Yes, there is a home beyond the sky 
Where man shall live and never die; 

And in that home, from sorrow free, • 
He shall the King of Glory see. 

Here in this world with life so fair, 

So fraught with pleasure and with care, 
So full of hope; and yet, I do find 
That I, alas, am blind, am blind ! 

Yet, by a living faith, I see 
A heavenly home, prepared for me. 

And in that heavenly home I’ll find 
That I can see; I’ll not be blind. 

And when I reach that blissful shore. 
From whence, I shall return no more; 

In that eternal world I’ll find 
That I can see; and am not blind. 

And then, with golden harps. I’ll sing. 
And make the heavenly arches ring 
With hallelujahs; as I find 
That I can see, and am not blind. 

Then, again, once more I shall greet 
The dear, loved ones, I there shall meet; 
With them. I’ll sing with joy to find 
That I can see; I’ll not be blind ! 

And as I walk that golden shore, 

And find life’s burdens, all, are o’er, 

I will join the general jubilee. 

And shout, and sing — I see, I see ! 

To God the Father, God the Son, 

And God the Spirit — three in One — 


lOO 


ITEMS, 


Eternal praise shall ever be: 

The lame shall walk, the blind shall see ! 

—C. S. 

The old rocking chair that Mrs. Warden had when she 
first went house-keeping and in which she rocked both her 
babies to sleep, was as a dear friend to Annis, and so she 
honored it by composing an ode for it. 

THE OLD ROCKING CHAIR. 

I’m SO far from my childhood’s home 
Where I was merry and glad, 

So far from the old place I love, 

That my heart is heavy and sad. 

- Chorus. — And I long, oh I long. 

Yes, I long to be there, to be there. 

Aye, I long — to be there 

By the side of that old rocking chair. 

I would kiss those dear lips that I love. 

And press the care beaten brow;* 

I would smooth the soft, silvery hair. 

If I could but be there now. 

Chorus. — F or I long, etc. 

’Twas there Mother rocked me to sleep. 

As I fed from the fountain of life; 

’Twas there she hushed my sad moans. 

When sufferings within me were rife. 

Chorus. — A nd I long, etc. 

“Now I lay me down to sleep,” 

Was learned at the old rocker's side; 


ITEMS. 


lOI 


And oft, from forbidden paths, 

She called, there, to chide. 

Chorus. — N ow I long, etc. 

’Twas there, Father blessed his child 
When she had older grown; 

And bade her trust the Lord, 

Wb.en she walked in life alone. 

Chorus. — So I long, etc. 

Early memories carry me back 

To home and the old rocking chair; 

But duty and loved ones are here, 

And I cannot, I cannot be there. 

Chorus. — Yet I long, etc. 

Annis’ mother was much touched and pleased by the 
words, which so tenderly expressed the yearning of Annis’ 
heart from the days of her childhood. And true it was, Annis 
ever cherished sweetest reminiscences of her childhood 
days; would that every child could return, with as much 
pleasure to their days of innocence. Recalling fond and 
loving rebukes, sometimes even stern ones, yet all along 
were the faithful admonitions of God’s love and their love, 
continually illustrated by their loving self-sacrifices, day by 
day, for her comfort or pleasure. Ah, yes ! Parents, re- 
strain your children from wrong; they will love and honor 
you more for it; but at the same time teach them of God’s 
great, immeasurable love and of your love; then prove it by 
your loving, tender care. Do not be afraid to express your 
love, it is better for children to express their love than to 
quench it by a strong reserve and an icy indifference. By 


102 


ITEMS. 


such reserve they are apt to become cold-hearted, unfeeling, 
unsympathetic. God continually expresses His love to His 
creatures. 

On the death of a little brother, Annis composed the 
following lines; which may bring comfort to some one, who 
has lost a dear one, so we insert them: 

AN angel’s visit. 

Precious brother, how we miss you ! 

From your accustomed seat 

When at table and fireside 

Or whene’re we chance to meet. 

At morning, when with the sun 
Away to the fields we go. 

While birds are singing gayly 
And bees are humming low, — 

There comes to us a feeling 
That a presence, all unseen. 

Is tripping close beside us. 

As we cross the meadow green; 

And we fain would see you. 

Whom our hearts hold so dear. 

But our eyes are wholly blind 
Although we feel you near. 

At noon, the call for dinner 
Comes sounding on the air; 

Returning, we find mother 
Weeping o’er thy vacant chair; 

But while we’re talking of him. 

Whose future seemed -so fair. 


ITEMS. 


Again thine unseen presence, 

We feel sure, is sitting there. 

Although in heavenly pastures, 

You now may freely roam, 

’Tis pleasure beyond degree 
To have you thus, come home. 

At eventide, when all is still, 

And the daily toil is o’er. 

We think, sweet strains of music 
From yonder, peaceful shore — 

Are wafted on the breezes 
To our ever listening ear; 

And we almost catch the glimmer 
Of that bright, celestial sphere. 

Gazing upward, in the twilight, 

A heavenly throng appear — 

Coming closer — closer — closer — 

Till our darling seems so near; 

Then with snowy hands uplifted. 
Looking up, with radiant face 

He says, in sweetest accents, 
“Heaven is my resting place.” 

“Dear ones if you love me, and 
Would dwell with me on high; 

You must love the Holy Savior, 
Who came on earth to die.” 

“ Do not mourn for me, I pray. 

But watch my upward flight. 

And strive hard to come this way — 
Yea — strive with all your might.’’ 


104 


ITEMS. 


Then, with little hands outstretched, 
As if a blessing to bestow. 

He rises, higher and higher — 
Beckoning to us below. 

And peace, sweeter, aye by far, 

Than the world can ever know. 

Rests on us, as we w’atch him 
Going, the w’ay we wish to go. 

THE DYING CHILD. 

“ Kiss me good night, dear mother. 
Lay your hand upon my brow; 

’Twill be the last good night, mother, 
For I’m at the river, now.” 

“Jesus waits to bear me over; 

As I near the swelling tide 

I can see the angels, mother. 

Standing on the other side.” 

“ Now I can see my brother, 

A harp is in his hand; 

He smiles and bids me welcome 
To that happy spirit land.” 

“Kiss me, too, dearest father. 

The pain will soon be o er 

And I shall stand triumphant 
On that fair eternal shore.” 

“ Do not mourn for me, dear parents. 
When my little life is past; 

For I’ve trusted in my Savior 
To dwell with Him, at last.” 


ITEMS. 


105 


“When the forget-me-nots are blooming 
And the birds have come again; 

You will look for little Julia — 

But your look, shall be in vain.” 

“ Then sighs will heave your bosom, 

And the tears unbidden start; 

You will try to hide your sorrow 
But ’twill almost break your heart.” 

“ But then, I shall hover near you 
And at twilight’s holy hour, 

Be so near, you’ll feel the presence 
Of the spirit’s blessed power.” 

“ This body of mine is going to rest 
And in the grave shall lie; 

But the spirit, shall soar to realms above, 
And I shall never, never die.” 

“ Tell all my loved companions, when 
They shall com.e to say farewell, 

That I’ve gone to the new Jerusalem, 
P'orever, there to dwell.” 

“ Say. that I shall wait for them. 

And with the white throng stand 

To bid them, ever welcome, when 
They come, to tread the golden strand.” 

‘ ‘ But, if they ever wish to meet me. 

In those shining realms above. 

They must put their trust in Jesus, 

Who died for them, in love.” 

“When o’er my grave, the zephyrs play, 
And the grass is fresh and green, 


ITEMS. 


io6 


You’ll come to meet me there, dear ones, 
Though I may not be seen.” 

‘‘ Kiss me, oh, kiss me now again. 

For my life is running low; 

And I must hasten to finish, 

’Fore the summons comes to go.’’ 

‘‘You must trust the Savior fully. 

When your child’s gone away; 

He will lead you thro’ the darkness. 

Out in the bright, eternal day. ” ’ 

” ’Twill not be long, before you’ll come. 
You’ll not have long to wait; 

Then, Wellie and I will meet you, 

At the golden, entrance gate.” 

“ Come, stand nearer, that I may see you. 
Put your loving hands in mine; 

I can hear the heavenly music. 

Surely, that must be the sign.” 

“ My limbs are growing icy, now. 

And my eyes are getting dim ; 

Jesus smiles and whispers, ‘come,’ 
Beckoning me to Him.’’ 

‘‘ Kiss me farewell, father, mother. 

And let me lovingly kiss you; 

My spirit flutters — now is leaving. 

And I must say adieu, adieu.” 

‘‘ I shudder as the cold waves lave my feet. 
Rising higher, higher on the shoal; 

Sing, let music calm my fears, 

‘ Jesus lover of my soul.’ ” 


ITEMS. 


107 


“Now the terror is all over — past, 

The future bright and new; 

Jesus holds me in His arms, 

To earth adieu, adieu.” 

As she murmured the last adieu. 

Her lips parted in a smile; 

O’er her face, spread a glorious halo. 

And her spirit passed, the while. 

0 

“ Blessed are they who die in the Lord,” 

The minister solemnly said; 

“ Peace be to thee and thine house. 

For her spirit to the Groom was wed.” 

“ Look upward, my friends,” said he, 

“ She is not here, but there; 

She’s no more on earth, but in heaven — 

‘ She has climbed the golden stair.’ ” 

Another of Annis’ poems in prose, entitled 

DEATH. 

Death is but the sea of faith, upon which all are com- 
pelled, by the hand of Omnipotent God, to at last sail. 

To the faithful it is but a transient and beautiful sail; for 
as they leave the shore of time, they catch glimpses of the 
opposite and eternal shore; “The home of the ransomed 
bright and fair, and beautiful angels too are there;” hence 
the intervening space becomes a little lakelet. So they, 
with tender yearnings, turn and say farewell to the loved 
ones here, then spring with delight into the skiff with the 
silent oarsman; whence they are quickly, yet gently borne 
along over the mirror like waters, which to some are foam- 


io8 


ITEMS. 


ing billows, but for them have been quieted by the oil of 
faith, through the blood of Jesus. 

Behold, as the barque nears the other side and the scope 
of vision widens, the domes and towers of the New Jerusa- 
lem, resplendent, not with sunlight, but the glorious radi- 
ance of God’s son, become visible, and the chanting of 
heavenly music is wafted on the breezes of perfected har- 
mony. The loveliness thrills the soul with vibrations all 
unknown before; while on “the evergreen shore” white 
throngs are gathered to welcome the pilgrim home; aye, to 
home and rest. 

Ha ! see, the keel of the boat touches the shore of the 
Eden above, and the Beulah land is reached. The face of 
our departing friend lights up, aye, shines, with heavenly 
lustre; the lips are wreathed in a smile, the eyes turned 
heavenward; while with a finger pointing upward and a 
pressure of the hand, and a murmuring like an echo, of 
“My Savior and my home,” the soul is in Paradise. Mar- 
shalled through the golden streets to the Great White 
Throne, it receives the welcome given to all those who en- 
dure unto the end; “Ye blessed of my Father, inherit the 
kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” 

It is then, the triumph is completed; the victory through 
our Lord Jesus Christ absolutely won; for then the prince 
of the world is vanquished and the chief of terrors lost its 
sting. 

Or, in other words, death to the faithful is but the gate- 
way, through which they pass from time to eternity; from 


ITEMS. 


109 


the negative to the positive; from the world with its unrest, 
clouds and decay, to heaven, with its rest, harmonious life 
and unity with God. 

Oh, let us not fear death, but look to him as a friend. 
Death is but one garb, in which Jesus appears to us; and 
every day brings Him nearer, and us one day nearer home. 

NEARER HOME. (Copied.) 

“ O’er the hill the sun is setting, 

And the eve is drawing on; 

Slowly, drops the gentle twilight, 

For another day is gone. 

Gone for aye — its race is over. 

Soon the darker shades will come. 

Still ’tis sweet to know at even, 

We are one day nearer home. 

Worn and weary, oft the pilgrim 
Hails the setting of the sun; 

For his goal is one day nearer. 

His journey more nearly done. 

Thus we feel, when o’er life’s desert. 

Heart and sandal sore, we roam. 

As the twilight gathers o’er us. 

We are one day nearer home. 

Nearer home ! Yes, one day nearer. 

To our Father’s home on high — 

To the green fields and the fountains 
Of the land beyond the sky. 

The heavens grow brighter o’er us. 

And the lamps hang in the dome; 

And our tents are pitched still closer. 

For we’re one day nearer home.” 


CHAPTER XIL 


THE RETURN. 

“ Be good and friendly still and oft’ return.” 

— Milton. 

“ How now, my love, why is your cheek so pale?” 

— Shakespeare. 

'T'HE morning following Harwood’s conversation with 
Robert Hastings, found him out early, and mounting 
his mustang he galloped away down the valley about three 
miles, when he drew rein in front of a small, rude hut, and 
dismounting, tapped at the door, which was opened by a 
neat looking woman of about thirty-five. 

“ Good-morning, Bridget, where is Patrick this morning ?” 
“ An shure he’s seein afthur the hurrud, me man,” replied 
Bridget, with a courtesy. “All right, I shall see him then. 
A very good day to you, Bridget,” and so saying, Harwood 
.re-mounted his pony and resumed his pleasant journey. 

Riding nearly half a mile further, he again stopped, and 
surveyed a herd of three hundred cattle and sheep quietly 
feeding. “ These are mine,” said he to himself, and in a 
moment he was saluted by Patrick, who cheerily exclaimed, 
“A good day to you, boss !” “Thanks, and one to your- 
self,” replied Harwood. 


THE RETURN. 


Ill 


“ Now, Patrick, how are things getting on, this morning ?” 
“ All right, Sirruh.” “ Did Smith take those ten, yesterday ?” 
“Yes, Sirruh.” “Very well, probably I shall send in ten 
more within a few days. Now, Sir, Patrick, how would you 
like a new boss?” “ Och hone! I dunno.” “You see,” 
continued Harwood, “ I think of going East, for a time, 
and I shall try to secure Mr. Hastings to act in my place 
while I am absent.” “Young Robert ?” “The same. And 
now, Patrick, you have always been trustworthy since you 
have been in my employ; if you continue so during my ab- 
sence I shall make you a fine present on my return.” 
“ Faith ! and you need not do it at all; my place is a good 
one, and my way is to work for the interest of my Boss, 
whether he be at home or abroad.” 

“ I know that is your way, and all I ask is for you to do 
as well when I am away as when I am here. But I must 
return to the hotel or I shall miss my breakfast. I shall see 
you again, soon. A pleasant day to you, my man,” and, 
tipping his hat, Harwood rode away in the direction of his 
inn. 

As we stated in a previous chapter, Harwood had decided 
to visit his home; and having decided was usually quick to 
to act; thus, as we have seen, the next morning after the 
decision found him beginning preparations. 

After breakfast he took his usual stroll, during which, 
he fell in company with Hastings, who exclaimed, “ Heigh- 
ho, Mert ! how goes it ?” 


II2 


THE RETURN. 


“ All right, old fellow,” replied Harwood, with a smile of 
welcome. “Pon my word, Merton J. Harwood, you look 
better than when I left you last night, what makes it ?” in- 
quired Hastings, interestedly. 

“ Pleasant dreams and anticipation, I suppose,” said 
Merton. “ Anticipations ! what do you anticipate now ?” 
said Robert. “ A visit East, Sir Robert,” replied Harwood, 
smiling at Hasting’s astonishment. 

“Whew !” and giving a short, low whistle, indicative of 
his surprise, Robert quietly observed; “Well, Mert, you are 
sensible. What is the use of your pining away in uncer- 
tainty ? Be a man; go to the lady of your choice, tell her 
of your devotedness, and ^f she returns your affections be 
married as soon as possible; but if so be she loves another, 
do not condemn her, but still be a man and turn your 
thoughts toward another, also; for allow me to say, there 
are others equally as worthy, although you may not now 
feel so. But honor bright, Mert, I believe you’ll come back 
to Colorado an engaged man; if you do you mustn’t forget 
the oysters.” 

“ Not a bit of it. Bob, and two plates of them, too, if I 
do. But really, without joking, I hope you are right,” said 
Harwood, earnestly. 

“ I presume I am; I usually am, you know,” responded 
Hastings. 

“But, Bob, I must get some one to take my place, here, 
while I am away, and I wish to secure your services if pos- 
sible, can I ?” 


THE RETURN. 


n3 

“To be sure you can, if such a fun loving scamp as my- 
self can fill the position of such a sedate personage as you 
are.” 

“ None of your irony, old boy, but what compensation 
will you require ?” “ Sufficient to defray my expenses, my 

lord, but we will discuss that at another time. When do 
you start ?” “ As soon as possible,” replied Harwood, and 

the two walked away. 

“ Blessed be the month of June 
When our hearts are all in tune, 

When throughout the livelong day 
Every heart is light and gay.” 

— F. G. Herbert. 

It was a pleasant afternoon in the beginning of June and 
the sun was slowly letting itself drop toward the western 
horizon; a very gentle breeze rustled the thick foliage of the 
maples and chestnuts; v/hich shaded a small but neatly kept- 
cottage in the suburbs of Fenton’s Corners. 

In the back parlor sat Mr. and Mrs. Harwood at tea. 
Each seemed engrossed in their own meditations when the 
sharp click of the gate caused them to look at each other 
and then listen for the summons of the bell; but instead, 
came the sounds of footsteps in the hall. 

“ They are coming right in whoever it ” The door 

opened and Mrs. Harwood, instead of finishing her sentence, 
clasped, in fond embrace, her boy; exclaiming, “Why, 
Merton Harwood ! how came you here, what has happened ?” 

“Nothing has happened, mother, except that I have come 
home for a visit and to give you a little surprise,” cheer- 


114 


THE RETURN. 


fully replied Merton, as he returned his mother’s caresses 
and turned to greet his father. 

After many hasty inquiries and answers, Merton exclaimed, 
“ Well, mother, your tea table looks inviting to a hungry 
traveler and I suppose since it is I you will not object to 
my sitting down to sup, a little dusty.” “ I shall not object 
this time, providing you arrange you toilet after tea,” said 
the good lady, smilingly. 

The tea was unusually enjoyed, for, after an absence of 
three years, Merton was perfectly delighted to be at ‘home 
again; and his parents were no less pleased. 

Tea over, Merton dashed up to his room, where he found 
things arranged the same as when he left home; this pleased 
him as it showed a mother’s desire to have the room look 
as when her child was there, and he murmured, “ though 
absent I am not forgotten. Would to mercy I could say as 
much of Annis Warden.” 

Having washed, brushed his hair and dusted his clothing, 
he hurried down stairs. Passing his mother on his way 
through the kitchen, he gave her arm a roguish pinch, and 
placing a kiss upon her cheek, he said, “ I see, while away 
I have not been forgotten, for you have kept my room ar- 
ranged the same as I used to like it.” 

The mother’s heart was touched, and the tears sprung to 
her eyes, as she said, “You are never forgotten, Mertie; 
did you think you were ?” “ Oh, no, indeed ! but I did not 

expect to find my old room the same, precisely, as when I 
left it three years ago.” 


THE RETURN. 


ns 

“Well, Mertie,” she replied, “ I kept it so to make it seem 
more natural and more as if you were coming home soon ?” 
“ I tell you, mother, it seems good to know loved ones 
lovingly await your return, when you are away off among 
strangers;” tears filling his eyes, he then added, “ now, I 
must run out and see if things out of doors appear as 
familiar as those inside,” and, giving her another kiss, he 
hastened out. 

He wandered about until twilight’s gray hush had taken 
the place of day, when he entered the house, went into the 
parlor and, flinging himself down upon the couch, he said, 
“ Now, please tell me all about the people I used to know; 
who’s dead, who’s married and who wants to be married, 
beginning with the old neighborhood where we used to 
live.” 

“ Why begin there ? Are you anxious to hear of your 
little favorite ?” asked his mother, with a merry twinkle in 
her eye. 

“Yes, of my favorites and tho.se who were not my favor- 
ites, too,” said Merton, blandly. 

“ Let’s see,” said Mrs. Harwood, as though hardly know- 
ing where to commence, “ I guess I’ll begin with Bert 
Wilder. He is at his grandfather’s yet, as of old, doing no 
business but to wear a plug hat and appear as sage-like as 
possible. Of course you know his friend, Fannie Andrus, 
has left him ‘ to dance in the pig trough alone,’ and married 
a Mr. Brusher. She and her husband live on the old Fre- 


Ii6 


THE RETURiW 


mont place.” “Have they bought it?” “I believe they 
have.” 

“Did you know,” she continued, “that Bell Doane was 
married ?” “ Yes, where do they live ?” “At Fort Stanwix. 

Bell’s sister and brother, Emma and Harry, are each keep- 
ing company with somebody, and should, properly, I sup- 
pose, be classified among those who want to get married. 
And under this same head, I presume, should come George 
Blaine and Annis Warden. George is still single and lives 
as heretofore. You knew Annis attended school at Ricks- 
port about two years, didn’t you ?” 

“ Yes, you wrote in the time of it. She is not married, 
then, I should judge ?” said Merton, carelessly, while his 
heart beat like a trip-hammer, as he listened to his mother’s 
reply. 

“No, she is not married; although the report was, when 
she first came back, that she was engaged to a young man 
of Ricksport and they were to be married soon; but I guess 
there wasn’t much in it, for I never heard of the fellow be- 
ing here more than once since her return. 

Last winter she spent some time in visiting friends 
where her people used to live. Oh, I guess she goes with 
different ones and no one in particular. But there is a 
gentleman, who may, possibly, be a little in advance of the 
others, his name is Calhoun. He is no one whom I know, 
but people say he is very stylish.” 

“ Do you know his given name ?” inquired Merton, as his 
mother ceased speaking. “ Not for certain, but I think 
somebody said it was James,” replied Mrs. Harwood. 


THE RETURN. 


II7 

“James Calhoun,” murmured Merton, reflectively, and 
then, suddenly changing the subject, he asked, “ Whatever 
became of Arthur Wade ?” 

“ Oh, he is a physician,” replied Mrs. Harwood. “ Well, 
I declare ! then we boys had him well named when we used 
to call him Doc,” said Merton. “Yes, he has become a 
doctor, and has an uncommon good practice,” observed Mr. 
Harwood; “and now,” he continued, “how does business 
West compare with it here ?” 

Conversation thus took a sudden and decided turn and a 
discussion of western life, customs and business, occupied a 
greater portion of the time until the hour for retiring. 

The next morning after breakfast, Merton walked up 
town, where he met many old acquaintances, who were 
pleased and much surprised at meeting him so unexpect- 
edly. He mailed a card to Robert Hastings, promising a 
letter soon, and before he was aware the town bell sounded 
the hour of twelve. 

News flies as if on wings, and it was soon noised about 
that Merton Harwood had returned. Merton received so 
many calls and invitations out, that a week rolled round 
and he had had no opportunity of visiting the old neigh- 
borhood; and neither had he, so much as caught a glimpse 
of the one he most wished to see. 

On Sunday, when at church, he had looked in vain among 
the young ladies for “ my little Annis,” as he persisted in 
calling her to himself; and on retiring to his room that 
night, sat until midnight, contemplating “The Long Ago,” 
of Zue Merrell’s, and murmured “thus it is with me.” 


IIS 


THE RETURN. 


“ I am thinking to-night of the Long Ago, 

The years of the beautiful past — 

The far-away time, with its rosy glow. 

And promise of pleasure’s perpetual flow, 

And bliss that for aye should last.” 

“ And hanging there, on memory’s walls. 

Are the pictures young Hope drew — 

Fair dreams of the years lying far away. 

And visions of love, that should never decay. 

Pure and bright as the morning dew.” 

“ O, beautiful realms of the Long Ago ! 

O, mystical isle of green ! 

I dwell again ’mid your bloom to-night. 

And forget, in the glow of your magical light, 

The sorrows that since have been.” 

In Mr. Warden’s drawing-room were assembled Maud 
Squires, Laura Wellington, Mary Howard, Fred Butler, 
Arthur Wade and James Calhoun, besides Annis and her 
parents. 

Merriment seemed predominant in Annis and Maud who 
appeared bent on having a jolly evening. 

Conversation was flowing briskly when all of .a sudden 
Dr. Wade said, ‘‘Miss Warden, did you know Merton Har- 
wood had returned ?” 

“ I did not; when did he return ?” remarked Annis with 
a smile, while instantly the blood left her face, and for a 
moment she leaned upon the chair, near which she was 
standing, for support. 

“ It is a week to-night since his arrival,” replied Dr. Wade. 


THE RETURN, 


I19 

“Does he return West ? How long does he remain ?” and 
so forth, were questions which Mrs. Warden immediately 
plied, thus endeavoring to divert the attention of their 
guests from Annis until she should regain her self-control. 

But one pair of eyes saw the blanched cheeks, pale lips 
and clinging for support, of his young hostess, and stepping 
to her side, James Calhoun said, “Are you ill. Miss Warden ?” 

Dr. Wade, upon hearing this remark, observed Annis and 
as quick as thought said, “Miss Warden needs fresh air,” 
and stepping to her side, he continued, “Annis, take my 
arm;” she obeyed mechanically, and the two passed out to 
the portico. 

Maud went on with her chit chat, endeavoring to enter- 
tain the guests, and in a few moments the Dr. and Annis 
returned as if nothing had occurred. 

Annis had complete control of herself during the remain- 
der of the evening, and when on her return some one asked, 
if she had recovered, she laughingly replied, “Oh yes, it is 
only a little freak of my heart, when in a close atmosphere.” 

A strange uneasiness ruffled the usually placid sea of 
James Calhpun’s heart, as he cogitated pro and con, upon 
the possibility of a mysterious something existing between 
Miss Warden and this individual, whose name he had 
missed. 

“And,” he observed to himself, “she may call it a freak 
of her heart, and Wade may say it was a momentary sus- 
pension of respiration, caused by a warm, close atmosphere, 
but it looks queer to me that it should occur instantly upon 


120 


THE RETURN. 


the mention of this person; who is he, anyway ? I mean to 
find out as soon as I can, and what he is to her, too. There’s 
one thing about it, I don’t intend to be made game for her,” 
and with this self satisfying conclusion he bent himself on 
being the agreeable to Maud. 

Annis was pleased with Calhoun’s attentions to Maud 
Squires and smiled approvingly; which fact tended to pro- 
voke, rather than please Calhoun, who had hoped to tease 
Annis. 

The evening being bright and warm a little walk on the 
lawn was proposed. Calhoun asked Maud to walk with him; 
Maud suspecting he was trying to tantalize her friend, re- 
marked, “ Most certainly, if Annis may accompany us.” 

“Accompany us, of course, we shall not leave her alone;” 
and with a very polite courtesy he proffered his arm to 
Annis, saying, “ Come, Miss Warden, accompany us to the 
lawn.” 

“Thank you,” said Annis, as she took his arm, and they 
followed the quartette to the lawn. 

“Well,’ thought Annis, “you were foiled in your plan for 
a solitary stroll with Maud; however. I’ll rid you of my 
presence as soon as convenient.” 

After a couple of turnabouts, Annis suddenly recollected 
herself and exclaimed, “Please excuse me, I wish to speak 
to Dr. Wade a moment,” and dropping Calhoun’s arm she 
flitted away. 

“Isn’t she a queer one?” remarked Calhoun as, with a 
feeling of chagrin, he saw Annis take Wade’s arm and whis- 
per something in his ear. 


THE RETURN. 


I2I 


“ No more so than many others,” retorted Maud, with a 
toss of her head. “ Beg pardon, if I have said ought to 
offend your ladyship’s highness” said Calhoun, with mock 
deference. 

As if by a second thought Maud immediately changed 
her tactics, and with a sweet little laugh she banteringly 
said, “O, for shame ! Mr. Calhoun you are too sensitive; 
only think of me being offended at such a common place 
remark, and dityou too?” 

Suffice it to say, in a short time Calhoun imagined Maud 
Squires to be dead in love with his own precious self, and 
but for a previous engagement with Annis, would have been 
tempted to engage Maud for a drive, the next Sunday 
eve; “just for the fun of it,” as he said to himself. 

Artful woman ! Deceitful man ! Yes, but “the woods is 
full of ’em.” 

After a very pleasant evening, the guests departed, all 
save Maud, who was spending a few weeks with Annis. 
These two young ladies, when left alone, very soon repaired 
to their room, where a confidential conference was held, 
which will appear in the following chapter. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A CONFERENCE. 


“ Oh ! ask not a home in the mansions of pride, 

Where marble shines out in the pillars and walls; 

But seek for a bosom all honest and true, 

Where love once awakened will never depart; 

Turn, turn to that breast, like the dove to its nest, 

And you’ll find there’s no home like a home in the heart.’’ 

— Eliza Cook. 

ii you eversQe such a conceited imp as that Calhoun ?” 

exclaimed Maud, as soon as they were fairly in their 

room. 

“Yes, many a one; although perhaps all do not possess 
it in the superlative degree,” replied Annis. “ Maud,” she 
continued, looking almost stern, “ show me one of the pre- 
cious lords who is not conceited, and I will reward you well.” 

Her tones were bitter, and Maud looked at her a moment 
and then said, “ Annis, what ails you ? I never heard you 
speak thus before, surely, there must be some secret canker 
in your heart, of which I never dreamed; come now, we 
have ever been the best of friends, give me your confidence, 
my dear, and it shall never be betrayed.” 


A CONFERENCE. 


123 


Placing her arm around Annis, Maud imprinted a kiss 
upon her cheek, and drawing her closer said, “ Come, now 
won’t you ?” 

Annis shuddered, as though dreading confidence, yet 
wishing it, then said, “ Yes Maud, you deserve and shall have 
my unbounded confidence.” 

“Then sit in this chair,” said Maud, as she wheeled an 
easy chair in front of the south window; and turning the 
lamp low she brought an ottoman, placed it at Annis’ feet 
and seating herself said, “ I am ready.” 

“I am scarcely twenty-one,” began Annis, “yet since a 
mere child, I have entertained a partiality for a certain per- 
son, whom I have no reason to suppose cares a single ‘ pic- 
ayune ’ for me. When we were children the partiality 
seemed mutual; when he became a youth and I a maid we 
attended the same high school, where it was apparent the 
same partiality existed, and we mutually enjoyed each others 
society. 

School closed; he graduated, I did not; we returned to 
our respective homes. He became a tutor for about two 
years and then went to Colorado, where he has been the 
past three years, engaged in stock-herding and speculation. 

In the autumn of ’72 I adopted his profession of teach- 
ing, which, by the way, was always my hobby, even in early 
childhood. He was one and twenty then and I was seventeen. 

After a year, spent in teaching, I went to Ricksport; 
spent two years there, came home, and have taught and 
traveled since. 


124 


A CONFERENCE. 


I have thus hastily recalled these facts that you may the 
better understand the matter. 

Since his graduation we have never been together; at fust 
when we met in society he • was social, but after a little he 
appeared to avoid me, and being of a sensitive turn I very 
soon only recognized him with a dignified bow and a cool- 
ness of manner, plainly indicating that I desired no ap- 
proaches, nor conversation with him. 

And truly I did not; forpeople whom I considered friends 
of both, had told me that he had insinuated that so long as 
I associated with certain individuals, he did not wish to 
associate with me, or something to that effect. And those 
individuals I had associated with, only when the force of 
circumstances had occasioned; they were, so far as I knew, 
respectable, although of a different style than that of our 
clique; perhaps quite as good though in the sight of God. 

However they were not my chosen friends, and I consid- 
ered the young gentleman quite at fault for not talking to 
me about the matter, and ascertaining the facts of the case 
before speaking to others in .that manner of one whom he 
had once called friend. 

Feeling indignant and never deigning to notice a person 
who, I think, considers it a condescension on their part to 
associate with me, and being prompted by a feeling of 
resentment, at what I considered his conceited notions I 
treated him with the most possible avoidance, which polite- 
ness would at all permit. Often have we met without even 


A CONFERENCE. 


125 


a bow of recognition, when it could be done without making 
the omission conspicuous. 

Having been so much from home I have necessarily been 
thrown into different society, and, with plenty of opportuni- 
ties, I have endeavored to overpower, aye, even to kill the 
partiality, which had so interwoven itself into my very being. 

I have argued to myself of the inconsistency, yes more 
than that, of the idiocy of allowing an unreturned affection 
to absorb my mind and feelings. I have plunged into the 
fountains of pleasure to drown the passion, and when 
drunken with mirth, declared to myself the childish fancy 
a whim, which was over and past. 

More than three years have passed away since I have 
beheld him, and only have I heard from him by the by. I 
supposed I had conquered the old feeling, or at least had 
control of it, but to-night, on hearing of his return, behold 
the effect.” 

She ceased speaking and sat gazing on the moonlit land- 
scape, which lay in beauty, stretched out before her, hushed 
in night’s calm repose, apparently lost in meditation. 

Maud refrained from asking the question, which trembled 
on her lips, and sat watching the face of her friend. 

After a moments silence Annis spoke as though acquies- 
cing to a remark of some unseen speaker. “ True enough ! 
Annis Warden, what earthly basis hast thou had on which 
to erect such a pedestal of love ? for love it is. Arise I shake 
off the spell and be a woman in word and deed.” 


126 


A CONFERENCE. 


As if obeying the command, she arose, brushed her hand 
across her eyes, and started to walk about the room. 

Maud immediately linked her arm within that of Annis' 
and said, “ My dear, you have not yet told me the name of 
your hero.” 

“ Merton Harwood is his name,” replied Annis. “ But I 
thought report had you married to Mr. Ashley, of Ricks- 
port; how is that ?” 

“ Oh, that is nothing; report has married me to various 
people. 'Mr. Ashley was nearly always my escort while at 
Ricksport; I received his attentions, for there was a novelty 
in newness; then I liked him as a friend. However, after 
coming home he wished a decisive answer, and not wishing 
to reject, and still knowing I could not accept, I kept defer- 
ring an answer, until by deferring and a gradual dropping 
off, the correspondence finally ceased, without a refusal or 
acceptance.” 

“ Well, that’s one way, I declare. Annis, I believe you 
are a science flirt.” “ No, I am not; who ever heard of 
such a thing as ‘ a science flirt ? ’ ” 

“Well call it what you will; you make the boys think you 
are head and ears in love with them, and when they swear 
their devotedness to you, you ‘ slide out;’ what is that but 
flirting ?” 

“ I don’t make them think anything; they merely think 
what they please. But we will not quarrel about it; you 
may call me a flirt if you like,” observed Annis. 

“ What of Calhoun ?” inquired Maud. “ I merely go with 
him to pass away time and have a beau when I go out; as 


A CONFERENCE. 


127 


for liking him, I do not, nor would not for his conceited- 
ness,” replied Annis. 

“ Then if you accept the attentions of young men, for 
whom you do not care, how can you blame Harwood, for 
giving attentions to one, for whom he did not care ?” asked 
Maud in a tone of reproach. 

“Indeed, I do not blame him. I only blame myself; but 
be assured, Maud, no one will see my weakness displayed 
again, as it was this evening, mind that,” said, Annis with 
emphasis. 

“ I like that spirit, Annis, and perhaps he has come back 
to see you now; I have heard of things strange as that,” 
said Maud. 

“Oh, for pity sake do not talk that stuff; it is not at all 
likely he would come back for me, after these years of sepa- 
ration and silence, and that too when there was never any- 
thing between us but a little polite attention, and perhaps a 
little preference, not at all an uncommon affair,” replied 
Annis. 

“ That is very true, observed Maud, not wishing to assist 
in building castles of hope, which the future should wash 
away, without the least realization. 

The girls having taken a few turns about the room again 
seated themselves by the window, when Maud observed: 
“ Now I want to tell you of my tete-a-tete with Calhoun, 
and then we must retire to slumberland.” 

“You see when you left us he said something about you 
being queer, and I just bustled up; on a second thought I 


128 


A CONFERENCE. 


decided to pla}" the affable and see what I could draw from 
his opinions. After some moments he asked who it was 
Wade said had returned; thinking he was trying to pry, I 
squibbled a little and said, ‘ was it not a Mr. Ashley ?’ ” 

“ ‘ Is he some one who lives about here,’ he asked. ‘ No,' 
said I; ‘he lives at Ricksport. He has been away West, I 
think;’ then I carelessly changed the subject. Pretty soon 
he said, ‘ Does Miss Warden have such attacks frequently ?’ 
‘Ido not know, but should not be surprised; she is not 
strong,’ said I, and again- changed the conversation.” 

“After a while he again, in some manner, alluded to you, 
and thinking he surmised something, and half believing he 
had understood what Wade had said, I thought I would try 
and delude him from the track if possible; so becoming con- 
fidential I remarked, ‘ Mr. Calhoun what I am about saying 
must be kept strictly private. Mr. Ashley was an old flame 
of Annis' while she was in Ricksport, but for some reason, I 
understand, since her return home she has given him over;' 
then added, laughingly, ‘ probably you know the reason why.’ ” 

“ This I could see had the desired effect, for a self satis- 
fied look rested on his handsome features, and his face and 
manners seemed plainly to say, she shipped Ashley for 
James G. Calhoun.” 

“Had I not know that Ashley and you had dissolved busi- 
ness, I would not have said what I did; but as it was, I 
thought it a good turn to make without falsifying; and I 
guess it did the ‘biz,' for there was a very satisfied expres- 
sion when he bid you good night.” 


A CONFERENCE. 


129 


“ Thanks for your consideration, but I’m afraid you fibbed, 
my dear; but what made you think of diverting his thoughts 
from the real subject which Wade mentioned ?” inquired 
Annis, with a smile. 

“ Because,” replied Maud, “ I surmised, although I did 
not then know, what caused your momentary illness, and I 
was determined, if I could avoid it, that Calhoun should 
not go away with that impression. And now, my darling,” 
she continued, let us get into bed as soon as possible, as it 
is almost morning.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


AN INVITATION. 

“ So sleeping, so aroused from sleep, 

Through sunny decades new and strange, 

Or gay quinquenniads would we reap 

The flowers and quintessence of change.” 

— Tennyson. 

morning was far advanced when the girls returned 
from Morpheus’ dreamy sphere, and making a hasty 
toilet they repaired to the dining room, where they found 
breakfast kept for them. As they sat chatting merrily over 
their coffee, no trace of disappointment was visible in Annis’ 
smiling face, which fairly beamed with delight as she broke 
the seal of a tiny envelope which her father had just handed 
to her. 

After a moment’s perusal, Annis exclaimed, “ Goodie, 
goodie ! Maud, hear this,” and she read aloud the follow- 
ing invitation: 

Valley Lawn^ June 77, 18 — . 

Mrs. Sophia Lee’s compliments to Miss Annis Warden, 
and requests the pleasure of her company at the young 
people’s reunion, at Valley Lawn, on the eve of June 19. 

Mrs. Sophia Lee. 


A AT IN VITA TION. 


131 


As Annis finished, Maud inquired, “ Who is Mrs. Sophia 
Lee ?” “ Aunt Sophia Lee is an elderly lady, who lives 

little more than a mile from Cherry Grove; she is aunt to 
almost every one in this community, and nearly every year 
she invites her young friends, which includes a large num- 
ber, to spend the evening, or night, I might better say, at 
her home. At such times she treats them sumptuously and 
a pleasant time is always enjoyed, providing the weather is 
favorable,” responded Annis, with animation. 

“ So you chance to be one of her friends, eh ? But is she 
an old maid or a widow lady ?” asked Maud. “Why, she is 
neither the one nor the other; she has a husband, 
known as ‘Uncle Zek,’ ” said Annis. “Then what makes 
the invitation read, Mrs. Sophia Lee and so forth !” “ Oh,” 

replied Annis, “Uncle Zek is one of those quiet old souls, 
who is not particular whether school keeps or not, and so 
Aunt Sophia has come to treat him as a cipher in such 
matters. And to tell the truth, I half believe she considers 
him a sort of nonenity in all respects, but, be that as it may, 
they are both peculiar.” 

“Now,” said Maud, “ that I have found out about her 
dear, old ‘hussy’ when is the 19th.” “Next Monday. It 
is now Saturday, so we have but one day, aside from this, 
in which to prepare,” answered Annis. 

“ Whoever heard of a social being given on Monday 
evening,” observed Maud, with a laugh. “ Oh, well, we 
who know Aunt Sophia have ceased to wonder at anything 
she does,” said Annis. 


132 


AN IN VITA TION. 


“Why, I should think she must be very odd,’* resumed 
Maud, still smiling at the thought of a Monday evening 
sociable. 

“ Not so extremely odd; for she dresses in good taste and 
displays fine discernment in some things, although so 
peculiar in other points,” replied Annis. 

During the conversation the voung ladies had ^vithdrawn 
from the dining room to the parlors, and, at the close of 
Annis’ last remark, she had asked to be excused to assist 
her mother a while, leaving Maud to her crochet and books. 

“ Is this not a lovely day,” exclaimed Annis as she 
entered the parlor after dinner, where her mother and Maud 
were discussing the coming party. 

“ It is indeed,” observed Maud. 

“ What shall you wear to the grand soiree ?” said Annis, 
addre.ssing herself to Maud, and, at the same time, reclining 
on the lounge. “ I do not know that I shall wear anything, 
as I have not received an invitation to the grand soiree,” 
replied Maud, mischievously. 

“Oh, you jade ! You know it is customary for invited 
guests to take friends who may chance to be visiting them, 
as you are; besides, I am very sure Aunt Sophia would 
have sent you a special had she known you were here, and 
quite likely will yet if she finds it out,” said Annis. 

“ She would most certainly have invited you had she 
been aware you were visiting Annis,”j‘emarked Mrs. Warden. 

“Oh, yes,” chim*ed in Annis, “and you need not be sur- 
prised if you receive a very urgent request to attend, about 


,LV IN VITA TION. 


133 


five minutes before the reception hour; for if she should hear 
some one remark of you, she would dispatch a messenger, 
with all possible speed, perchance at the eleventh hour. So, 
there is no alternative; you must prepare.” 

“ If I must, then I must, I suppose,” said Maud, with 
mock submission; “but,” she continued, “What do you 
intend to wear, Miss Annis ?” 

“ I hardly know — what shall I wear, mother ?” “ What 

you please,” replied Mrs. Warden; then, after a moment, 
she said, “ perhaps, your blue silk with white lace overdress 
would look well.” 

After a few moment’s thought, Annis observed, “ I rather 
think I will wear my steel colored cashmere, with dead pink 
silk and white lace bows; a few violets and for-get-me-nots 
with geranium leaves shall be twined in my hair and at my 
throat.” 

“ What a dainty little maiden you will appear,” exclaimed 
Maud; “your flowers are well chosen if ” then, recollect- 

ing herself she added, “ if the evening is pleasant,” giving 
a sly wink to Annis, whose face flushed slightly. 

“ I can scarcely see what difference it makes whether the 
evening is pleasant or not, so far as the flowers are con- 
cerned,” remarked Mrs. Warden. 

“ Oh, that is only some of Maud’s nonsense; thrown out 
for want of something l^etter,” said Annis. Then address- 
ing Maud she continued, “ what is your ladyship to wear ? 
I hope you will dress a little more elegantly than I.” 


134 


AN IN VITA TION. 


“ Then, supposing you dictate my attire, and if it suits 
my profound approprobation, I will dress accordingly.” 

“Very well, wear your plum colored silk with creme lace 
drapery and scarlet geraniums in your hair and at your 
throat. Now, Mother,” she added, “ would that not be 
quite the thing for her style of beauty ? ’ 

“ I should think it would be very becoming to her,” 
quietly remarked Mrs. Warden. 

“ Umph ! my style of beauty, indeed. Now, Annis, you 
need, (to use an elegant expression) a good pounding for 
insulting me,” said Maud, with a manner of assumed 
injury. 

“ Well, you may pound me if you can catch me,” said 
Annis, rising from the lounge and running out of doors fol- 
lowed by Maud in hot pursuit. 

Mrs. Warden soon called Annis, saying it was tea time? 
whereupon Annis repaired to the kitchen to prepare the 
supper and thus relieve her mother. Maud followed, de- 
claring she would like to see Annis married and bobbing 
around in her own kitchen, cooking and washing dishes. 

“ I should think,” retorted Annis, vehemently, “ you had 
much better wish to see me the mistress of some fine house 
with plenty of servants to do my bidding, than wish to see 
me dubbing around in a kitchen. For my part, I should 
prefer to be the wife of a kind, indulgent husband, and be 

known to the world as Madame , the gifted orator 

and benevolent lady. But above all.” continued Annis, be- 
coming serious, 'T should prefer to be known as one of 
God’s children; however, .1 think, both eloquence and chris- 


AN IN VITA TION. 


135 


tianity may be found in one person; and I do think orators 
and authors have a far more extended field for labor than 
most other people. Orators, speaking here and there to the 
various audiences, who listen to and must imbibe, at least 
some of their ideas, must, from the force of nature’s laws, 
exert that subtle, never-dying influence over millions of souls. 
So it is with authors; their books become the companions of 
their readers, and as such either perform good or bad work; 
as, ‘ From the heart the mouth speaketh,’ so, the intents of 
the author’s heart, will eke out in some avenues of his 
manuscript.” 

“Behold ! that mysterious something, which steals from 
one soul to another, propelling and repelling it to a certain 
extent, known as influence. Perhaps we now see it a mere 
fledgeling, as it were, in the attic of some tenement, but, 
see ! its nest was in the manuscript of an unknown author, 
which has now passed the ordeal of publishing, and in 
printed volumes is scattered far and wide over this broad 
earth; and, as we gaze, the fledgeling gradually spreads its 
wings, and, instead of the fledgeling, we see an eagle, 
spreading his mammoth wings, either for kindly protection 
or terrible harm. I will not enlarge upon the subject for 
want of time; but will close by saying, blessed is the orator 
or author whose God-like love and charity assist their 
eloquence and begets attention; and their eagle of influence 
defends and protects the right and strenuously puts down 
the wrong: manoeuvering to charitably point out the ills of 
life and pursuade wrong to give over to right,” and, with a 
nod, Annis finished her little address. 


36 


A AT IN VITA riON. 


Unconsciously Annis had assumed the manner of a per- 
son addressing an audience, and by certain emphasis, pauses 
and gestures had considerably impressed Maud with her 
power, and, as she gave her nod, indicative of finis, Maud 
exclaimed, “ Ton my word, with a little practice I think 
you might hold an audience first-rate, gain a good living and 
make a high name as a lecturer; but here are the men for 
supper.” 

In a few moments the girls had the tea in readiness and 
all repared to the dining room to partake thereof. 

The following day was plea.sant and spent in church at- 
tendance, playing, singing, reading and so forth. In the 
evening James Calhoun, with the carriage and black ponies, 
stopped at the residence of Mr. Warden. After a short 
stay inside he reappeared with the Misses Warden and 
Squires. 

After a pleasant and lengthy drive the trio returned, but 
it being nine o’clock, Mr. Calhoun did not call, but after a 
few moment’s conversation at the gate, during which he 
had asked Annis if she would like to drive again in two 
weeks, providing it was pleasant, and having received her 
reply, he drove away and the girls retired. 

By previous consent no mention of Aunt Sophia’s party 
had been made in the presence of Calhoun. 

“ By the way, Harwood, are you going to the party this 
evening ?” asked one gentleman of another, as the two 
walked leisurely toward the Harwood residence. 


AJV IN VITA TION. 


137 


“ I guess — I do not know; sometimes I think I will and 
then again I have half a mind to give it up,” said the per- 
son first addressed, who was Merton Harwood. 

“ Oh, pshaw ! you must not give it up. You will see all 
the young people, whom you ever knew. I tell you we 
have the jolliest time of all the year down at Uncle Zek’s 
or rather Aunt Sophia’s, (for Uncle Zek is merely a fixture)” 
said the first speaker, who was none other than Arthur J. 
Wade, M. D. 

“Well, I will think of it,” replied Harwood. 

“ Say ! decide to come round and go with me; for I am 
going alone purposely to be at liberty to pay my ‘distresses’ 
(oh, my — ) to any of the fair beauties I please; and, by 
Jinks ! I hope Miss Squires will be there; if she is I bet two 
to one I shall be her devoted satellite — ” 

“ Who is Miss Squires ?” interrupted Harwood. “ She is 
a friend of Annis Warden’s, who is spending a few weeks 
at the Grove. I never saw her but once and then thought 
her ‘ just killing.’ Not that she is so uncommonly hand- 
some but so bright and intellectual, with large, black eyes, 
dark brown hair and a graceful sprightliness that is per- 
fectly bewitching,” replied Wade. 

“ Does Miss Warden usually attend Mrs. Lee’s parties ?” 
inquired Harwood. 

“ Oh, yes. And she would not be likely to remain away 
now that she has Calhoun for an escort; for his style is con- 
sidered quite an item among the ladies, and he just idolizes 
Annis. 


138 


IN VITA TION. 


Stopping a moment the doctor eyed Harwood carefully, 
but there was nothing to either indicate disappointment or 
displeasure, unless it might be a certain peculiar movement 
of the mouth, and he continued, “but to tell the truth, I do 
not believe Annis cares a thrippence for him. But that is 
not here nor there — will you go with me ? that is the 
question.” 

“ I believe I will, since you are going alone,” replied 
Harwood. 

“All right, be ready about seven,” said Wade, as they 
entered the hall of Harwood’s home, where Dr. Wade was 
to dine with his friend. 

“ ‘ But all too long, thro’ seas unknown and dark 
By shoal and rock hath steered my venturesome bark, 

And landward now, I drive before the gale, 

And now the blue and distant shore I hail; 

And nearer now I see the distant shore expand. 

And now I gladly furl my weary sail. 

And, as tbe prow light touches on the strand. 

I strike my red-cross flag; and bind my skiff to land.’ 

Are words of Sir Walter Scott’s where he closes ‘The Vision 
of Don Roderick;' and I think they are applicable to me,” 
mused Merton that evening, on his way to Dr. Wade’s office. 

“ For, you see,” he continued, “ my bark has been driven 
through unknown seas of difficulty in regard to my ‘ Evan- 
geline,’ but to-night, by the gale of circumstances, I am 
driven toward the object of my thoughts. ‘ And now I 
gladly furl my weary sail,’ and let her drive as I near the 
distant object; and if perchance my ‘ prow light touches on 


AJV IN VITA TION. 


39 


the strand,’ I know ‘ I shall strike my red-cross flag,’ cease 
this tumultuous sailing, ‘ and bind my skiff to land ’ and, if 
possible, cast anchor in her heart. But here is Wade.” 

“ All ready, Mert ?” 

“ Yes.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE MEETING. 

“ On wings of wind the moment’s hie 
When in the midst of pleasure; 

But, slowly drag themselves away 
When they withold a treasure.’’ 

— The Author. 

A MONDAY, June 19, had proven a beautiful day, and the 
evening was most auspicious for Madame Sophia Lee’s 
soiree, and, at an early hour, young people could be seen 
wending their way toward the spacious halls of Valley Lawn 
Cottage, as the home of the Lees was called. 

Lights flashed from every window and door, and several 
guests had already arrived when Annis and Maud drew 
rein at Valley Lawn. 

The young ladies were ushered to the front chamber to 
divest themselves of their hats, and so forth, thence to the 
reception room, to greet Mr. and Mrs. Lee, after which they 
passed into the drawing room. 

Arrivals were very frequent, and, while the guests are 
coming, let us take a peep of the house and its surroundings. 

The house is an old-fashioned, oblong, two-story build- 
ing, with huge chimneys protruding themselves from its 


THE MEETING. 


141 

roof; it contains odd chimney corners and various nooks 
and recesses. It being situate on a hillside there is a level 
passage from the chamber to the plateau on the hill at the 
rear of the cottage; between the house and highway runs a 
large meandering brook. As the house stands with its 
end toward the highway, there are large fine lawns and 
strolling grounds. 

The plateau at the rear of the cottage extends back in an 
easterly direction, having for its northern boundary a steep 
declivity overgrown with trees, which are of sufficient height 
to protect the plateau from northern storms; at the imme- 
diate foot of this declivity runs the gurgling stream on its 
way to the house and its front lawns. Southward the plateau 
gradually slopes to a level plain, on which stands an apple 
orchard, now laden with its unripe fruit. 

The lawn in front of the cottage very gently declines to 
a plain, having the orchard on the south and at its north 
the stream, whose banks are so low that its rippling waters 
kiss the tiny grass blades, which grow along its brink. 

The moon is full and in its bright, but mellow light, 
objects are made distinct. The dark shadows of the trees, 
with an occasional ray of moonlight breaking through the 
foliage, and resting on the soft velvety sward beneath, and 
the fantastic figures by the topmost twigs, as they toss for a 
moment in the breath of the south wind, all contribute to 
make the scene attractive. 

Now, since we have had our peep at the cottage of Valley 
Lawn and its surroundings, let us return to the drawing- 
room, which we will find full to overflowing. 


142 


THE MEETING. 


“ Annis,” said Maud, a few moments after their entrance 
to the drawing-room, “ who is that gentleman with Dr, 
Wade ?” 

Annis glanced up just as the two gentlemen indicated 
were entering the room and replied, without the least per- 
ceptible emotion, “ That is Mr. Harwood.” “Oh!” said 
Maud, with a little emphasis and slight arching of the brows. 

It was evident said gentlemen were directing their steps, 
as fast as civilities would allow, toward our two friends, who 
appeared entirely engrossed in conversation, and much sur- 
prised when Dr. Wade at last addressed them with a polite 
“Bon soir, madamoiselle’s.” 

Annis could not have done otherwise, had she wished, 
than greet Harwood and present Maud, after having re- 
turned the Dr.’s salutation; very soon Wade invited Maud 
to a game of chess, and thus Annis and Merton were left 
alone, as it were. 

Annis appeared quite at ease, and so naturally led the 
conversation that Harwood very soon felt “ much at home” 
in her society. 

Before long the dance formed, and although unaccus- 
tomed to dancing, Harwood determined to try the mystic 
windings, if Annis would be his partner; so with a slight 
courtesy he asked, “ Miss Warden, do you ever dance ?” 

“ Sometimes,” was her significant reply. “ Then,” said 
he, “ will you accept me as a partner in the present set ?” 
“ Most certainly,” said she with a bow and a smile, as she 
took the proffered arm, and was led away to be lost in the 


THE MEETING. 


143 


mazes of the dance. At the conclusion of which they re- 
turned to the drawing-room and amused themselves in dom- 
ino playing, the only game in which Annis indulged. 

After a little, other friends joined them and Annis excused 
herself to find Maud, whom she found dancing with Wade; 
when they had finished Annis claimed her, and they were 
soon seated in one of the chambers, which being deserted, 
they converted into a council chamber. 

It was sometime before either Wade or Harwood could 
find our two friends unengaged. During a conversation 
between these two gentlemen, Harwood observed: “ I should 
judge Mr. Calhoun is not present this evening.” “ He is 
not,” replied Wade, and I wonder at it, for he has been so 
attentive to Annis, that some have already united their 
names.” 

“ It does not always require much attention to unite 
names,” said Harwood, “ for I have known names to be 
united, when no attention had been shown, other than com- 
mon civilities.” 

“True,” replied Wade, “but, to change the subject, I 
should like to know your opinion of Miss Squires.” “ I 
have scarcely seen her, and so can hardly give an opinion,” 
said Harwood. 

“ Did you notice her dress .^” asked Wade. “Yes, and 
think it is superb,” replied Harwood; “but,” he added, “I 
must say, I prefer Miss Warden’s outfit for a country party, 
it rather strikes me. Miss Squires’ dress is too elegant for 
this quiet rural retreat. 


144 


THE MEETING. 


“ Oh nonsense ! I have seen Miss Warden sling on style 
ere this; but I must confess, her toilet to-night, seems the 
very embodiment of studied simplicity, even to the flowers 
she wears,” said Wade. 

“ Well, I admire her taste, and as for the flowers, I think 
they are really beautiful with those knots of pink silk and 
white lace. What is prettier, anyway, than pansies and for- 
get-me-nots ?” said Harwood, with some earnestness. 

“ Undpubtedly you admire the wearer and their language 
quite as much as their beauty,” said Wade with a laugh and 
a wink. 

“Perhaps so,” replied Harwood, in a careless manner, 
although he blushed like a school girl under the force of 
Wade’s slight repartee and scrutinizing gaze. 

“ There they go now !” exclaimed Wade, as he glanced 
up and caught a glimpse of Maud and Annis; “ they are 
going to the lawn, let’s follow them,” and suiting the action 
to the word the young men passed out, and taking a differ- 
ent route from that taken by the ladies, they soon managed 
to meet them. 

“Ah ! so you are enjoying these lovely lawns, too,” said 
Wade, as the quartette met. “ Oh yes,” replied Annis; “ I 
do think aunt Lee's grounds are just lovely, especially by 
moonlight.” 

“You never .saw them before, what is your opinion of 
them?” said Wade, addressing himself to Maud. 

“From what I have seen of them, I think they are indeed 
charming. Now Mr. Plarwood, what is your opinion ? I 


THE MEETING. 


1^5 


suppose after viewing Colorado scenery this seems tame, 
does it not ?” said Maud. 

“ I call these grounds beautiful, Miss Squires, but they 
are not of that sublime beauty to which mountain parks 
belong. You know there the vast snow-capped heights, 
with their massive rocks, great trees, little rivulets and cat- 
eracts of spray, separated by yawning chasms over whose 
beds mountain torrents may be heard rushing and roaring 
on their wa) , all lend a charm to the valley parks below, 
which these lawns must necessarily lack. Mountain scenes 
g,rand, sublime, AWFUL, in their vastness, solitude and 
wildness, they appeal more deeply to the feelings, than these 
scenes of repose and moderation can; for they display a 
greater variety of God’s creative power, and, hence possess 
greater facilities through which to appeal to the inner man* 
These scenes appeal mostly to the preception and a love of 
the beautiful, only slightly calling out the imaginative and 
leaving the feelings of awe, sublimity and grandeur all un- 
touched,” quietly observed Harwood. 

“ That is ab.solutely true, and my views exactly,” exclaimed 
Annis, as Harwood finished. 

“ Since you two so well agree perhaps it would be well to 
leave you to discuss nature, while Miss Squires and I walk 
about a little,” said Wade. 

Without waiting for Miss Squires’ decision, Harwood 
stepped to the side of Annis and said, “ Miss Warden, it is 
our turn to leave them; they have left us once this evening.” 
“ So it is,” said Annis, and taking his arm she added, “Wade, 


146 


THE MEETING. 


take good care of Maud,” and tossing a kiss to Maud, she 
and Harwood walked away. 

After strolling about some time, Annis and Harwood 
neared the stream and halted; Annis stood looking into its 
limpid, rippling water a moment, then said, “ See, this 
stream is a symbol of our lives, ever murmuring, ever chang- 
ing, and ever rolling onward toward the great mysterious 
sea beyond.” 

“ Yes, and all unconscious too, of what lies beyond,” 
added Harwood. “Aye — all unconscious of what lies be- 
yond,” murmured Annis to herself. 

“ Do you know,” said Harwood, “ I was just thinking of 
the changes, wrought by time, among that band of school- 
fellows, who once played around the Corners, where I was 
reared.” 

“Aye, how they have scattered abroad; most of them are 
married, some of them have .moved far away, and a few have 
passed through the valley to the shining realm beyond,” 
said Annis with a sigh. 

“ And a few of us are ‘ single and free nor married do we 
wish to be,’ as George Andrus used to sing; and that calls 
to mind a fact that, to me, seems queer, that Fannie Andrus 
should have given over Bert Wilder and married that 
Brusher,’* observed Harwood. 

“ It does seem odd that they should haved called it quits, 
when once they appeared all devotion to each other; how- 
ever, she often declared, at that same time, she didn.’t care 
a fig for him, but her people considered it a good match. 
But Bert claims to have given her over,” said Annis, and 


THE MEETING. 


147 


then added, “ you and Mr. Wilder were very good friends 
in the days gone by.” 

“ Yes,” said Harwood; “ But Annis, he did some things 
which I thought queer.” 

“ It would be strange, indeed, if he did nothing queer; I 
supposed we all did some queer things,” remarked Annis. 

“ It may be, and in fact, I believe we all do act queerly 
at times; yet, if I thought a young lady should be shunned 
by my friends and advised them to that effect; I should 
hardly think it proper, in a short time, to put forth every 
endeavor on my part to secure her society,” said Harwood. 

“ Ah, well ! we hardly know what we would do if we 
stood in other people’s shoes,” said Annis, and, longing to 
give him a thrust, she added, “besides, I should consider it 
quite as honorable to do that, as to shun a lady because 
gossipers classed her name with one whom the world called 
her inferior. For, in my opioion, a dog might worship at 
the shrine of a king and the king be made none the worse 
for having seen the homage which he did not encourage.” 

Her words were uttered in a tone of reproach and her 
usually pleasant lips were curled in bitter scorn; while her 
eyes searched him as if to say— “you were guilty of that, 
what excuse can you offer.” 

A new thought flashed like lightning across Harwood’s 
mind and he saw that Annis had been deluded to think he 
had shunned her on account of what gossipers had said 
concerning her marrying Blaine. He also felt the rebuke 
was intended for him; with this feeling and the new know- 


148 


THE MEETING. 


ledge came another feeling, affecting him like a shock from 
an electric battery; causing his heart to beat triple time and 
his blood to tingle in his veins; commingled emotions of 
hope and fear almost overwhelmed him. 

His deluded idol must no longer think him guilty of such 
conduct, no matter what were the results; so he said, “ I 
think I comprehend your meaning; but God knows I never 
shunned you because someone else worshipped at your 
shrine; if you thought that you certainly misjudged me.” 

“ What made you make personal application of my 
words,” asked Annis. 

“ Because,” said he, placing his hand gently on her 
shoulder and assuming a most sincere tone and manner, 
“ because I remember, and have always remembered, those 
pleasant days at Jacksonville, when I enjoyed your society 
and you appeared to enjoy mine. I also remember the 
lonely days that followed, when you appeared to shun me, 
and not wishing to force my presence where undesired, 
(when I could avoid it) I walked in other paths; which — 
but no matter about that; I concluded from your words 
that you thought I had shunned you on account of some 
one’s admiring you, which was not the case.” 

“ I did however hear things which I thought your con* 
duct corroborated and which influenced me to desist from 
the purpose once formed. But, if I just now misconstrued 
your meaning, I most sincerely beg your pardon, yet shall 
still be glad that I have taken this opportunity of telling 
you the truth. Before dropping this subject, however, I 


THE MEETING. 


149 


must ask and insist upon an answer to this question, did 
you or did you not intend those words for me ?” 

Seeing her hesitate he added, “No matter how we may 
now be situated; you can at least satisfy my desire to know 
whether I am right or wrong in my conclusion.” 

After a moment Annis looked him full in the face and 
said, “ Yes, Merton, I meant them for you.” Her lips 
closed with firmness and Harwood stood eyeing her closely, 
trying to divine her thoughts and feelings; but all he could 
glean from her face was candor and decision. 

At last he spoke. “So you thought I shunned you, 
Annis, I never did intentionally, and if I ever appeared to 
do so, it was from a feeling that the farther I kept from you, 
the better you were pleased.” 

“ How could you feel so, when I took pains to send you 
an invitation to one of my evening parties the next winter 
after we left Jacksonville. And, instead of politely excusing 
yourself, made the rude remark that you did not care to 
associate with people who chose George Blaine as a lover. 
And let me here state, that, so long as George Blaine con- 
ducts himself equally as well as other young men, so long 
he is equally as good and worthy respect, according to my 
theory; for I claim equality of rights and respect in society 
on equality of conduct. I know that is not according to 
society rule, but, in my belief, it is according to God’s rule; 
for He respects people according to their works or conduct 
and not according to their birth, rank, money nor affluence,” 
observed Annis, seriously. 


150 


THE MEETING. 


“ Really, Miss Warden, your eloquence exceeds my im- 
agination. I had no idea you were so much of an orator — ” 
“ That is because you are not well acquainted with me,” 
interrupted Annis, for she took his words as intended irony. 

“ May be,” said he, thinking her a little assuming, “ how- 
ever,” he continued, “you are laboring under a mistake.” 

“ How do you know I am ?” said Annis, thinking he re- 
ferred to oratorship. “ I know you are ” said he. “ In 
what respect ?” said Annis, her face flushing. 

“ In respect to the invitation you sent me and my reply,” 
said Harwood. “How can that be,” said she, “when the 
person by whom I sent the invitation brought the reply.” 

“ Was the reply in writing or merely verbal ?” inquired 
Harwood. “ Verbal, to be sure. A person who would 
make such an insolent reply as that would scarcely deign 
to the trouble of writing it out,” replied Annis, vehemently. 

“Your messenger was certainly a misinformer and a de- 
ceiver,” .said Harwood. “ He was one whom we each 
called friend,” remarked Annis. 

“He could have been no friend, for he uttered a most 
gross falsehood when he told you that I made such a re- 
mark; for let me tell you most emphatically, I never received 
any message whatever from you since we left Jacksonville; 
so you see the utter absurdity of me making a reply to a 
message most absolutely never received,” said Harwood, 
with much ca^ndor and earnestness. 

Annis appeared thunderstruck as it were, and stood 
as one dumb-foundered w’hen Harwood ceased speaking. 


THE MEETING. 


151 

After a moment he said, “So my little friend, you see 
you were laboring under a mistake.” “ I see,” said she. 
“ Now, Annis, who was this person who so nobly acted the 
part of friend to us ?” inquired Harwood. 

. “ None other than Bert Wilder,” said Annis, as if wishing 

to send vengeance on that individual by the mere enuncia- 
tion of his name. 

“ Bert Wilder !” ejaculated Harwood, who now stood 
aghast at this revelation. “ Bert Wilder,” he again muttered, 
“Can it be he, who, while playing the part of friend, was 
acting the part of double traitor? Yes, double traitor, for 
he came to me with many things and I little dreamed he 
was going to you with like stories. But what reason could 
he have had? I am sure I was always his friend and why 
should he treat me thus ?” 

“ His motives were purely selfish ones,” said Annis, who 
had hastily reviewed the past and divined the truth. 

“ To be sure they were, and I can see through it all as 
plain as a, b, c; and understanding, can almost forgive 
when I reflect what it is to idolize and have impediments 
between the idolator and idol. But, Anni.s, now that con- 
versation has drifted on thus far, may I ask you a few 
questions and will you answer them truthfully ?” inquired 
Harwood a little anxiously. 

“ You may ask your questions and I shall answer truth- 
fully if at all,” said she. 

“ Of course you will answer them truthfully if at all,” said 
Harwood, “but you might evade direct answers.” 


152 


thp: meeting. 


“Well, ask your questions and then I can better judge 
of the answers,” said Ann is. 

“Then,” said Harwood, “going back to the days at 
Jacksonville, did you enjoy my society and think of me as 
a dear friend ?” “Yes, I enjoyed your society as that of a 
friend,” replied Annis. 

Harwood winced a little for he had purposely inserted 
the word, dear, in his question and she had purposely 
omitted it in her answer; but he continued, “ Did you 
ever think of me (as I really intended you should) as 
anything more than a friend ?” 

Annis colored at this question but quickly said, “I should 
like to know on what grounds you assume the right to 
question me in this manner.” 

“ On the grounds of having once been a love-bound 
slave, subject to your rule, and, as there has evidently been 
foul play, through which a broken link or an end has been 
made to that chain of bondage, I seek for my own satisfac- 
tion, and perhaps yours, to know how and when it happened. 
So, will you please answer ?” 

“ Not yet. If the bondage is ended, why review the 
past ?” 

“ I am not sure it is ended,” said Harwood. 

“ But,” persisted Annis, “if we are to be subject to the 
loving rule of others, why unveil the past ?” 

“ I am under no obligations to any lady, save my mother. 
What the future holds, we know not; and if you are under 
obligations, the past need not influence the present nor 


THE MEETING. 


153 


future; besides I shall speak to no one on this subject, save 
yourself, and it will afford me much relief to know for a 
certainty, whether I have been laboring under a delusion en- 
tirely or not. Now, will you answer ?” 

Hesitatingly Annis replied, “Yes, I thought of you other 
than a friend.” 

“ Good !” exclaimed Harwood. “ It is worth coming all 
the way from Colorado to hear that, if nothing more. So, 
I was not mistaken;” and gently drawing her to his side, 
he said, “ Annis, stand here while we talk, in memory of 
those days.” 

This was said in a strange pathos, which caused Annis’ 
heart to leap with a wild joy and which she sought to cover 
with assumed indifference. 

After a moment Harwood almost nervously asked, “Annis, 
was the dislike you afterward manifested felt or assumed ?” 

“ Partly felt, after having heard what I now believe was 
false,” said Annis. 

“ And partly assumed,” added Harwood; “but,” continued 
he, “ did you ever, in all the long separation, dislike me ?” 

“Almost, when I thought of what was either your fickle- 
ness or cowardice in not coming to me and ascertaining the 
truth,” replied Annis. 

“ Almost — not quite,” said Harwood, looking lovingly 
and inquisitively into Annis’ eyes. 

“ Not quite,” she repeated. 

“ Honest girl !” exclaimed Harwood, drawing her still 
closer, then added, “ one more question my little pet and I 


154 


THE MEETING. 


will then desist from further questioning at present. Are 
you engaged ?” 

Annis felt his arm tremble, and, suddenly becoming 
possessed of a spirit to tease, she said, “Yes—,’ eyeing 
him closely, she saw a cloud flit across his face and his arm 
dropped; “for a ride,’’ she playfully added. 

“ For marriage, I mean,’’ said he, earnestly. 

A step was heard. Wade sang out, “ Talking nature yet, 
I suppose.’’ “ No,” whispered Annis to Harwood, as she 
took his arm; then, turning to Wade, she said, “Yes, nature; 
true nature is my hobby, you know.” 

“Yes, I know,” chimed Maud, reaching back and giving 
Annis a pinch; she continued, “but you ought not devote 
the whole evening to that discussion, especially now that 
the bell, with its silvery tones, is calling to refreshments.” 

“ Let us be off at once,” said Annis, and just as the bell 
ceased its calling the four sat down to be served. 

It was early Tuesday morning when Maud and Annis 
reached home. Wade proposed driving to the Grove as an 
escort for the young ladies and finally thought Miss Squires 
better ride in his carriage and ascertain which she liked 
best. Maud said she would with Annis’ consent, and when 
Merton said, “ Annis, if they do that, and you are willing, 1 
will ride with you,” she said, “ Oh, yes;” and so it was that 
Harwood and Miss Annis rode in the Warden carriage, and 
the Dr. and Maud in the Wade carriage. 

When the Grove was reached both gentlemen were in- 
vited to call before Maud’s departure, and they agreed to 


THE MEETING, 


155 


do so. Having exchanged parting salutes, the gentlemen 
drove away. 

“ I have led her home, my love, my only friend. 

There is none like her, none. 

And never yet so warmly ran my blood 

And sweetly on and on 

Calming itself to the long-wished for end. 

Full to the banks, close on the promised good,” 

Quickly ran through Harwood’s mind and he said to him- 
self, as he lightly sprang into Wade’s carriage at Cherry 
Grove; “ How appropriate that part of Tennyson’s ‘ Maud ’ 
is to me.” 

Our friends retired to their room and it was not until the 
the sun had crossed the meridian that Maud and Annis de- 
scended to the parlor where Mrs. Warden sat sewing. 

As was Annis’ custom she greeted her mother with a kiss, 
and then seated herself to tell her all about the party, which 
she did very accurately, merely omitting her private con- 
versation with Harwood, but . not forgetting to tell her 
mother that Merton Harwood was there and how they came 
home. 

The story ended, the young ladies thought it time to 
satiate their appetites, and accordingly repaired to the 
dining room. 


A RIVAL FRIEND. 


“ and I saw 

There, v/here I hoped myself to reign a king, 
There, where that day I crowned myself as king. 
There in my realm, and even on my throne. 
Another !” 


— Tennyson. 


UARWOOD and Wade rode homeward full of conversa- 
tion on the events of the party and the girls; finally 
Harwood said, “Doc, when are we to call at the Grove !” 
“ Almost any time I am not engaged,” answered Wade. 

9 

“ Well, what do you say to a Sunday evening drive, pro- 
vided they are not already engaged ?” inquired Harwood. 
“All right, I’m agreeable; but how are we to ascertain 
whether they are engaged or not !” said Wade. 

“Why, we must go for a drive and call at the Grove,some- 
time the last of the week, and then we can easily find out,” 
replied Harwood. 

“Well, we will go for a drive about Friday or Saturday, if 
I am not too much engaged,” said Wade. 

“ Agreed,” said Harwood, vaulting from the carriage as 
the doctor halted in front of his office. “ Good morning. 


A RIVAL FRIEND. 


157 


Doc,” he added. “ Good morning, Mert,” responded Wade, 
and Harwood hastened homeward. 

Saturday afternoon was warm and bright; Maud and 
Annis were sitting in the orchard reading, when the door 
bell announced an arrival. Mrs. Warden answered the sum- 
mons, and met Dr. Wade and young Mr. Harwood. 

After a few moments conversation in the drawing-room, 
Wade made inquiries for the young ladies. 

Mrs. Warden replied that they were in the orchard, but sire 
would call them. “ No, please, do not; v/ith your permis- 
sion we will go there, it is so much cooler out in the shade 
than indoors,” said Wade. 

“ Very well, act your pleasure,” said Mrs. Warden. “Thank 
you,” said Wade, and speaking to Harwood, they arose and 
went in quest of the girls. 

“Good afternoon ladies.” “ Good afternoon monsieurs,” 
said the girls rising and extending their hands; “ I am sure 
you are quite welcome,” continued Annis, “pray be seated.” 

“ Oh dear ! isn’t this warm weather ?” exclaimed Maud, 
fanning herself vigorously; and so they continued to chatter 
away for more than an hour, when Wade ahemmed and with 
a w^ave of the hand said: “We came here on business, is 
your ladyship ready to listen ?” “ I am — proceed,” said 

Annis, with assuming dignity. 

“ Well then, we came here to see if you young ladies — ” 
stopping short he turned to Harwood and said, “ Do your 
own talking;” then addressing himself to Maud, he contin- 
ued, “ I, came to see if you would like to drive with me 


158 


A RIVAL FRIEND. 


to-morrow evening, early, providing it be pleasant ?” “ I 

should, indeed,” replied Maud. 

Addressing Annis, Harwood said, “ Since Doc is so kind 
as to allow me to speak for myself, I must say, the object 
of my visit here to-day, is to see if you will allow me the 
pleasure of your company for a drive to-morrow evening, 
provided you are not engaged ?” he added, arching his brows. 

“ 1 am not engaged, for to-morrow evening,” she said, a 
smile playing about her mouth. 

“ Then may I have the pleasure ?” he said, seeing her hes- 
itate. “ Most assuredly, and my thanks too, for your kind 
offer,” said Annis with a smile and pretty toss of the head. 

“ Just hear her banter,” cried Wade. “ I am not banter-, 
ing,” said Annis; “ but come let us go to the house,” and 
offering her arm to Harwood she continued, “come Merton, 
let us lead the way.” 

On reaching the house Harwood proposed to adjourn un- 
til four the following day, it was agreed and the gentlemen 
took their departure. 

The next evening, according to agreement, the four friends 
enjoyed the proposed ride, which still lives in their memo- 
ries as one of the pleasures of the past. 

It was decided Maud should return to her city home the 
following Wednesday, and the young gentlemen promised 
to see her at the dopot if possible, which promise they ful- 
filled when the day arrived. 

The good byes were said and with a loving hand squeeze 
Annis and Maud separated; the latter to enter the train, 
the former standing on the platform to await the departure. 


A RIVAL FRIEND. 


59 


‘‘All aboard !” shouted the conductor. The engine gave 
a short “ toot, toot,” and with a wave of the hand and a kiss 
torsed back to Annis, Maud Squires was whirled away, and 
here we shall take leave of her for the present. 

“ Oh dear, I shall be so lonely without Maud !” exclaimed 
Annis, “ I hope you gentlemen will not entirely ignore the 
Grove, now that she is gone.” 

“ Judging from appearances, I should say Harwood is not 
likely to discontinue his visits to the Grove,” said Wade 
jokingly. 

Annis’ face flushed, but she replied in a careless manner, 
“ I hope not. But mercy, I feel almost disconsolate at the 
thought of your non-appearance, which must inevitably be, 
since the attraction is gone.” 

“That remains for the future to tell, little Miss Pert,” 
said Wade. 

“You will be welcone, if you choose to call, and now 
adieu for the present,” said Annis, as she started toward her 
carriage. Harwood accompanied Annis to the Grove, and 
remained to tea. 

The following Sunday evening Calhoun alighted from his 
carriage and pulled the bell at the Warden cottage. In the 
drawing-room were Annis and Merton Harwood, the latter 
having come on the plea that he thought Annis would be 
lonely, now that her friend had gone, and perhaps he could 
help beguile a few moments of her time. 

This was but a flimsy excuse to cover his real purpose, 
for he had surmised that Calhoun would come to the Grove 


i6o 


A J^IVAL FRIEND. 


that evening, and he wished to meet him, also to be there 
first. 

Annis stepped to the door and to Calhoun’s inquiry if she 
were ready, replied that she had company and could not 
with propriety go, at least, for the present, and concluded 
by inviting him inside, which invitation he accepted, and 
accordingly was ushered into the drawing-room where he 
was formally presented to Mr. Harwood. 

The young men saluted each other with much cordiality, 
which Annis mentally declared assumed, and smiled to 
herself. 

After a little Mr. and Mrs. Warden came into the draw- 
ing-room and engaged in conversation. Nine o’clock came, 
and still Harwood lingered, as apparently unconcerned and 
innocent as a lamb. 

Disconcerted and provoked, Calhoun took his departure, 
and soon Mr, and Mrs. Warden left the drawing-room. 

Harwood remained but a short time, and then with a feel- 
ing of triumph, bade Annis good night, having first obtained 
her promise to accompany him to a picnic that week. 

About a week later Calhoun again called upon Annis and 
solicited a private interview, which was granted, and during 
which Annis {)lainly told him they could never think alike, 
therefore had better discontinue each others individual com- 
panionship. Mutually agreeing to remain friends, and meet- 
ing only as such, would accord with her mind, but as for 
his paying her any more attention than courtesy demanded 
him to pay any lad}^ she very kindly and respectfully de- 
clined receiving it. 


A RIVAL FRIEND. 


i6i 

To be sure this was very plain language, and Calhoun 
could not but fully comprehend its meaning; although much 
piqued at its pointedness, and crestfallen at the failure of 
his ruse, which he had considered only as absolutely certain 
of success, he could not do otherwise than accept her terms 
of friendship, and quietly take his departure. 

Here we shall take our leave of Mr. Calhoun, while he is 
at full liberty to pay his addresses to a fairer lass, perhaps, 
than our Annis, but to none who more detest his conceited- 
ness than she does. 

Right here allow me to say a word to conceited coxcombs, 
Young man do not flatter yourself that every young lady, 
who speaks to you, smiles at you or even accepts your com- 
pany a few times, is dying to have you propose marriage, 
that she may accept your hand, heart and fortune, (provid- 
ing you have one), and that the choice rests merely vjxth you \ 
for so7netmies young ladies have a preference, and do occa- 
sionally exercise it, much to the discomfiture of conceited 
puppies, who consider themselves a rare gem and a decided 
clever catch. 

The same reasoning holds good when applied to the 
opposite sex; hence we leave them to make their own appli- 
cation. 

Picnics, excursions et caetera, frequently occurred and 
Annis invariably appeared at them under the escort of 
Harwood. 

Now it was that gossips opened their eyes, ears and 
mouths, wonder stricken at the fickleness of Annis Warden. 


162 


A RIVAL FRIEND, 


But this fact did not seem in the least to disconcert our 
little lady, who thought she knew her own affairs and most 
willingly attended to them herself, not even deigning to 
explain matters. 

June and July passed, August came, and still Harwood 
lingered at the East, although imperative letters came from 
Robert Hastings, one of which closed as follows: “ Do hurry 
up Mert, for I want a little chance for recreation before my 
Gracie and I step off, which little thing we expect to do 
about the middle of September; from what you write I 
should think it time you popped. 

Yours forever,, in a jumping hurry. 

Bob. Hastings.” 

Merton laughed as he finished this epistle, but thought 
he was enjoying himself to extremely well to bosh it all by 
risking a refusal, which would almost drive him wild after 
such delightful reassociations with her, whom he loved so 
well, too well if she should reject him. 

“A refusal indeed, bah ! I will not think of it; the mere 
thought makes me sick, I will think of nothing but an ac- 
ceptance, until compelled to think otherwise,” and thrusting 
the letter into his pocket he sauntered home, mentally resolv- 
ing to improve the first good opportunity of ascertaining 
his fate. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


WILL. 

What ! stop because I've partly failed ? . 

Oh ! no sir; not I, not I ! 

I’ll up again and work and strive, 

And try, and try, and try 
To do whate’er I can 

To prove I’m something more — than 
A simple wo(to)man. 

— The Author, 

pHILDREN, when beginning their first essays, usually 
speak of the various kinds of flowers and so forth: 
Like them I will say there are many kinds of Wills; some 
are good looking — some are not; some wear mustaches and 
are sweet on the ladies — but the class I shall discuss are a 
different variety; although, perhaps the latter are very 
closely connected with the former and have much to do 
with each other. 

The wills of which I shall speak are wills of the mental 
order; the motive powers of both mind and body. 

Strong will, controlled by right principle, works a vast 
amount of good; controlled by wrong principle, a vast 
amount of evil: hence the power lies in the will, while'the 
results depend on education. 


164 


PV/LL. 


“ As the twig is bent the tree is inclined,” is an old adage 
full of truth: so, if the twig be improperly bent, the tree 
will still incline in the same direction, but with this differ- 
ence; its rigor has increased with age, and it is much more 
difficult to get it back to the normal condition. Beware, 
oh beware how you carelessly bend the will. If it becomes 
subservient to evil, evil results follow and others suffer as 
well as yourselves. No good can be accomplished by wills 
worked by a wrong motive power. 

The verse at the beginning of this indicates a decided 
will on the part of its author. Naturally she would be in- 
clined to cease from her purpose after a partial failure but 
her will asserts itself and she declares she will not desist; 
but will try and try. That is a perfect language of the will — 

“ Try, try again. 

If at first you don’t succeed, 

Try, try again. 

You will conquer, never fear. 

If you will but persevere. 

Try, try again.” 

Will recognizes no defeat. Now, in right that is very 
well; but will must be subservient to reason, and reason to 
conscience, as conscience is the medium through which 
God communes with us, causing us to determine right from 
wrong. Or, in other words, it is the cable used by the 
Holy Spirit in teaching us God’s will; and His will should 
always control ours. 

Will has an extensive control of the physical functions of 
our bodies, often even prolonging life. Physicians and 


WILL. 


165 


Others, who are observing, can tell of cases where people, 
who were ill, died from a lack, of will to live; their wills be- 
came morbid, they fancied they must die and gave them- 
selves up to that delusion, thus feeding, to a certain extent, 
the disease. Others, equally ill, are determined to live. 
They exert themselves to oppose the disease. They will to 
live and they live. Disease is often baffled by an opposite, 
determined will. True, it is riot always, but occasional. 
A morbid will action, surely paves the way for a more 
furious attack of disease. 

I now have in mind a schoolmate, a young lady pro- 
nounced in consumption. Frequent hemorrhages com- 
pelled her to lie in bed three days at a time; then up she 
would get with a large blister across her chest and the 
hectic spots glowing on her cheeks. Away she would go 
to school or for a frolic and if remonstrated with she would 
say, “ O nonsense ! if it wasn’t for my activity and will I 
would have been dead long ago.” And truly her will and 
energy aided nature to overcome her disease. That was 
about fifteen years ago; to-day she is a missionary to In- 
dians in Asia. I do not wish to be understood that her 
will cured her, but it aided greatly. 

Let us just recall some of our noted people, who succeeded 
in life because they had great will power, or rather, exerted 
their will power. Napoleon Bonaparte was successful in 
war because he willed to conquer and would not even stop 
for the inaccessible Alps, although they were an obstacle 
which would have staggered many, less determined. 


WILL. 


1 66 

Washington, Lincoln, Garfield, Martin Luther and the 
Wesleys were all men who succeeded by continued exertions 
of the will. But they are only a beginning of all of those 
who have succeeded. Yet they are sufficient to show what 
can be done. 

True, all are not Shakespeares, Scotts, Dickens, Hollands 
nor Beechers by birth. Nature does not distribute to each 
the same; but all may improve and should. 

The Master does not require ten talents from the man 
who only received one; but he does require an increase of 
the one, as well as of the ten. 

One definition of will is inclination. It seems to me we 
more genrally use the term inclination when our wills are 
weak, or our desire is not intense. But will, by which we 
are to succeed, must be strong. Our desire must be intense 
and accompanied by firm, resolute determination. 

Perseverance is an attribute of the will, as is also desire, 
a wish, inclination, design, purpose, intention and resolu- 
tion. United these form the grand propelling power of 
human work — will. 

Wills might be compared to engines; some are mighty and 
like the great Corliss engine, set in motion many and varied 
agencies, by which grand, wonderful, useful and beautiful 
results are obtained. Others, like the alcoholic engine, 
accomplish desired results with much less puffing and 
bustle; but although the work is finer it is not nearly so 
much seen nor so much of it accomplished. Others remind 
us of broken engines; they accomplish little and that very 


WILL. 


167 


imperfectly; sometimes even spoiling a great work; and we 
cannot but feel it would be better were they entirely disused. 

Can wills be cultivated ? O, to be sure. Teach ourselves 
to persevere, to overcome obstacle after obstacle as they 
debar our way, when undertaking a work. If not entirely 
successful at first renew our efforts and determinations; 
always raising our standard a little higher than we can easily 
attain. Thus we not only strengthen our wills, but elevate 
our mental and moral standing, if we choose the proper 
work; and our choosing ought to always to be guided by 
God’s teaching, not sometimes, but always; then w*e shall 
surely do a good work. 

Teach these precepts to the little ones from infancy up, 
to depend on God and self; then we shall see a generation 
of strong willed, independent, good moral citizens, governed 
by God’s will and abounding in good works. 

We must remember and bear in mind 

“ As the twig is bent — the tree’s inclined.” 

“Ah, what is this, Annis?” exclaimed Harwood as he, 
happened to call and find Annis out under the old cherry 
tree, writing. “Are you a bas-bleu^ my lady?” “Yes, 
something of a blue-stocking. You see Merton, this is one 
of my series. Will you read it ?” 

“ Most certainly, with your permission.” 

“ You have my permission, on one condition, that is — 
when you have finished, you shall tell me truly your opinion 
of it and criticise the errors,” responded Annis. 

“Very well,” and he proceeded to read. Having finished 
they discussed the subject for a time, when he changed the 


168 


WILL. 


topic, by saying, “ Now Annis, get your hat and come for a 
little drive with me. It will rest you and you will be better 
able to write when you return.” 

“Yes, I will do so with pleasure; but remember my next 
subject is education.” And away the light hearted Annis 
went for a rest, but soon returned and began the following: 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


EDUCATION. 

Education is gaining knowledge, and continues through time and 
eternity. — The Author. 

T trust the ideas I shall present, may at least meet with 
your approval, if not your most earnest sympathy. Edu- 
cation is to me a most real, a most emphatically real fact, 
worthy profound consideration and rigorous application. 

I shall present this subject under six general heads, viz. : 
Physical Education, Moral Education, Intellectual Educa- 
tion, Spiritual Education, How and What to Teach, and 
finally the Effects of Education. 

But before beginning these heads let us find at least some 
reasons for an education. Firstly, God and Nature demand 
it, for growth, increase and multiplicity are God’s* natural 
requisites; secondly, the government and society demand 
it; thirdly home and our own happiness require it. 

Soon the present generation will pass away and those that 
are now children must fill the places thus vacated. Pause 
a moment friends, and think of the responsibilities, cares, 
sorrows and disappointments, which await the rising gene- 


170 


EDUCATION. 


rations. They are inevitable; they have been met by our 
ancestors, they have come to us, and they must come to our 
posterity, it is in accordance with natural events. 

Since these responsibilities, et caetera, must be met, how 
shall we prepare them to meet these things ? Reason imme- 
diately answers, educate them. But how ? Why physically, 
morally, intellectually and spiritually. 

Ah yes, here we are again; but what is physical education ? 
It is a training or cultivating of the different functions of 
the body, to perform their proper offices, when required. It 
begins with the motions of the infant and is increased by 
play, gymnastics and work; and is cultivated by a knowledge 
of anatomy, physiology and hygiene. But these require to 
an education of the intellect; hence, one necessity for intel- 
lectual education, and also a necessity for the two to progress 
somewhat together. What are the benefits of a physical edu- 
cation ? A clean, well kept person, erect and graceful 
carriage, and best of all, good health; the latter being one of 
the requisites of a good intellectual education. 

Morality is that part of humanity under the direct control 
of the conscience, and conscience is a mental faculty, or a 
part of reason, which enables us to discern right from wrong, 
and very largely controls our actions and feelings, which 
fact, gives it a separate distinction from the intellect, 
although properly belonging to it. This faculty is quite as 
capable of culture as the others, and the moral education 
begins with the child’s earliest training in regard to right 
and wrong. Therefore we should employ teachers, choose 


EDUCATION. 


171 

companions, and select as models for our children such 
persons, only, as are morally good. The greatest means of 
a moral education is a careful, thoughtful study of God’s 
love a^d laws, given us in the Bible, and taught in all nature- 

What is study ? Looking upon pages of print ? Most 
absolutely, no. But it is a close, a genuine application of 
the mind to a certain subject; and its principle requisite is 
undivided attention on the part of the student. 

Intellectual education is our third heading. We all know 
the intellect, or mind, has its throne in the brain of mankind- 
The brain is a physical member, and on its healthy condi- 
tion depends much of the intellectual action; hence a healthy 
body is necessary to an active, intellectual action. The 
intellect is composed of several members, which act and re- 
act upon each other continually; therefore best results must 
be obtained when each member is made active by careful, 
judicious training. 

These members are called faculties of the mind, and are 
each named as they develop in the infantine mind. Percep- 
tion is the first faculty used and by which we see things 
either concrete or abstract. Conception is the next, and that 
by which we reproduce or recall the impressions received 
by the perception; memory, remembrance and recollection 
are attributes of it. Reason and generalization follow very 
gradually, being scarcely perceptible at first. These four 
may be called a major classification, while they include 
several minors, or may be said to have several attributes, as 
attention, comparision, judgment, and so forth. 


172 


EDUCATION. 


Let us now consider the best method of obtaining best 
results in training these faculties. Of course the normal or 
natural way must be the best, as we then are working in 
conjunction with nature’s developments. 

From what does the infant gain his first impressions ? 
Certainly from concrete objects, which are reflected in its 
mind as an object in a glass. All impressions of the concrete 
are conveyed through the five senses or avenues to the mind. 
At first the faculties appear dormant, the babe receives its 
mental impressions, but seems immediately to forget them; 
presently, however, the night lamp is extinguished, and the 
tiny cherub cries. Why? Because it recalls the bright, 
shining spot, which it now cannot see; re-light the lamp and 
baby is still. This recalling is the awakening of the con- 
ceptive faculty. 

The child at first sees or hears with the physical powers, 
then recalls or sees and hears wfith the mental powers. Then 
the natural way to train it, is to present to its mind or teach 
it to observe carefully through the five senses; after a little 
it will be able to recall those impressions, and thus form 
conceptions, and soon to reason, generalize and express its 
ideas and thoughts. 

As without perceptions we can know nothing, so, on per- 
ceptions depend all knowledge; hence let us carefully culti- 
vate the perceptions by taking notice of things; by observing 
carefully and thoughtfully. Present an object to a child, 
the concrete at first, examine it, talk of its form, its color, its 
use; the child will remember it, besides being entertained. 


EDUCA TION. 


73 


He will quite likely make comparisons, and not unfre- 
quently exercise his imagination; his mind will receive a far 
more valuable drill than by merely memorizing a set of 
other’s ideas, whose meaning perhaps is not understood at 
all, or at least, very dimly. Object teaching in all possible 
cases, is by far the most productive of good results; the 
object is photographed in the mind and it, with its history, 
is quickly reproduced by the magic touch of recollection. 

Perception does not deal entirely with the concrete, but 
does nearly .so, at first; after a time, however, we are enabled 
to deal with abstract objects and all the faculties are brought 
into action. 

Teach children to recall objects they have seen, to repeat 
stories they have heard or read, to remember parts of ser- 
mons (and older ones might do that), and give items of 
lectures they have heard; in short, teach children to think, 
to consider, to reason, to exercise their minds in all possible, 
proper ways. Begin and continue this work at home, do 
not leave it entirely for the school-room. 

If parents and teachers would require more observation, 
more thought and more proper expression of thought on 
the part of children; taking care to direct the same in proper 
channels; instead of so much memorizing, what a vast im- 
provement on the part of our young people. Thought is 
what we want instead of so much chatter about nothing. 
Thought upon subjects of consequence, of importance. 
Conversations upon subjects of importance, upon some- 


174 


EDUCA TION. 


thing that will improve us and benefit others; that improves 
the world. Not so much trashy gossip about insignificant 
things, or things worse tlT«an nothing. This last could be 
largely done away with if parents and teachers set themselves 
earnestly to work with the same end in view. The mind 
must have food, and if it has that which it cannot digest, it 
receives no good or very little; if it is over-crammed it can- 
not digest all; if it has not a proper amount of good, whole- 
some food it will fill up with scu??i. 

Prepare a sufficient amount of wholesome food, flavor it 
with change, cheerfulness and beauty, spice it with love and 
earnestness, and administer in quantities and as often as the 
child requires. Some minds require more than others. 
This I give as an antidote for thoughtlessness, it is equally 
good for adults. 

Teach the child to make practical use of all knowledge 
gained; it will then become thoroughly his own, and he will 
be a more independent being. 

Spiritual education will now claim our attention for a 
season. It is such culture as enables us to growth, higher 
aspirations and greater progress in the spiritual life. Study- 
ing and copying the life of Jesus is the highest and best 
culture we can gain; but reading the lives of spiritually- 
minded people, and association with real live Christians, is 
another great incentive to good works. But in the spiritual 
life, we must bear in mind, Jesus is always with us. He 
says, “ I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” “ I will 
come to you and make my abode with you.” “Abide in 


EDUCATION. 


175 


me and I in you.” Now, from these promises, we see that 
Jesus is not far away but with us, abiding with us and in 
us. This thought should not only restrain us from evil but 
also constrain us to greater efforts to please Him. Teach 
the little ones to think of Jesus as near them, and full of 
love for them, to talk to Him as they would to other friends. 

In the spiritual life we must grow as we do in the physi- 
cal. Nature requires action for development of the physical 
and mental organs. So also we must have action in the 
spiritual life if we would grow in a healthy condition and 
improve. The same law governs the one as the other. 

When we are born into the spiritual life, which means 
opening our hearts and letting Jesus inside, we must begin 
to act in that new life'. What is acting in that life ? Why 
it is studying God and His dealings with His children. 
Remember, all people are not God’s children as some think. 
We are all His creatures but not his children, unless we 
accept of His Son as our Redeemer; then we are born of 
the Spirit of God and become brothers and sisters of Jesus 
Christ, and joint heirs with Him of the kingdom of God; 
hence we are children of the greatest of all kings. By 
studying God we find he is love\ then we must ask him to 
fill us with His love and then exercise that love for others. 

Ask and ye shall receive.” Nothing is promised us except 
we ask for it; then we shall receive. We find also God is 
light; ask that we may be a light and then be a light hy 
bearing testimony of what He has done for us, not only by 
our words but by our acts, that others may be blessed by 


176 


EDUCA TION. 


the light, and praise the God who blessed us by using us as 
His instruments to bless them. 

We find God is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and 
the end of all beauty, light, life, right, might, love, in short, 
all that is worth having or being. So, He is the one thing 
needful, the one thing to be sought. “Seek first the king- 
dom of God and His righteousness, and all these things 
shall be added unto you.” It is a great promise, is it not? 
Yes, let us teach it to the children and to all who know it 
not. Let us repeat it to ourselves that we may not foget it. 

For a little time let us consider hoiv we may teach and 
what we may teach. The how will be short — by precept 
and practice. The practice is very essential. It is extremely 
difficult to make the child understand why he must not do 
what he sees his parents doing day after day. The daughter 
cannot understand why she may not seek the society of 
every man when she sees her mother doing so day by day. 
Neither can the lad see the necessity of refraining from 
strong drink, gambling and so forth, when fathers do not 
hesitate to drink or take a game with his companions. So, 
let me say it again — teach by precept and especially by 
practice, whenever you wish to give a moral or spiritual 
lesson. 

Good morality is but the germ of spirituality and is to it 
what the germ in the kernel is to the full grown, fully 
ripened grain. God is perfect spirituality; God is morality 
in its purest type; hence good morals must proceed from 


EDUCA TION, 


177 


Godly teaching. Character must be good if morals are 
good and they are the tender plants of spirituality. 

What shall we teach ? First, to love God with all our 
heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and to love 
His service, thus benefiting our fellow creatures; and living 
the only life worth living. To do this we must do away 
with self, and be wide awake to see where we may do some 
kindness to others. It may be to pray for them, to encour- 
age them in the Christian life; it may be a word of Godly 
cheer to the mourner or the sick one; it may be a word of 
loving warning to the erring; and again it may not be a 
word at all but a loving act, perhaps only a pressure of the 
hand to indicate your sympathy, which need not alway be 
spoken but may be acted or looked. Yes, even a kindly 
look or smile has often won a heart and not unfrequently a 
soul to a higher and better life. Oh, let us guard well our 
acts as well as our words. We may speak love, but if we 
act indifferent, haughty or hateful our speaking is worse 
than idle. Yea^ silence would have been better, for we 
have belied our words. If God is love and we are Godly, 
we must have love in us, and that love will speak in more 
than one way. Others must feel our interest in them and 
be influenced by it. 

Responsibility .should be taught to every child. He 
should feel he had something to do, more than watch his 
fellow travelers in life. He has a work no other can do. 
A duty to God, man and himself. He has an influence, I 
have an influence and you have an influence, and otir in- 


178 


EDUCATION. 


Alienee is what ive make it. . This in Alienee is implanted 
by nature, in every living soul and its life is eternal. 

It has been said that every sound is eehoed and re-eehoed, 
and goes on eehoing and re-eehoing through all spaee; 
thus it is with inAuenee; it is eehoed and re-eehoed through- 
out a never-ending eternity. We inAuenee those with 
whom we assoeiate and to a eertain extent their lives are 
affeeted by it; we separate and mingle with others; their 
inAuenee eontrolled in part by ours, affeets those with 
whom they assoeiate; again they separate, and so on the 
work goes through time and eternity, like the ripples ehas- 
ing eaeh other on a lake, where a stone has been east into 
its liquid depths. If we had held the stone the ripples 
would not have been there; but onee the stone is east the 
ripples go on and on in spite of our vain regrets; and thus 
it is with an evil inAuenee, no regrets ean eheek its eourse, 
onee it has started; but if the inAuenee is good, we do not 
wish to stop its eourse, and just think of the great good, 
whieh may eome from a single righteous aet. 

Do not think you are of little thought, and your inAuenee 
does not amount to anything, and you may be eareless 
about it without doing harm. ' A lighted mateh is but a 
small thing, but plaee it into a mow of hay, at Arst a few 
straws:' ignite, soon, however, others are ignited and the 
work goes on until the entire mow is eonsumed. Perhaps 
the eonAagration spreads, and an entire town is eonsumed, 
a eountry devastated; all the work of one, little, tiny,. lighted 
mateh. 


EDUCA TION. 


179 


As it is unsafe to put the lighted match in the mow, so it 
is equally unsafe to throw out a single, little, evil influence, 
though it may be only a word at first. If you do, the cause 
is there and philosophically it must have its effect. “Evil 
communications corrupt good manners,” was a copy written 
for me years ago. It was a fact written by Paul many cen- 
turies before. It was true then, it is true to-day. Not only 
your own manners but those who listen are also corrupted. 
Guard well, then, your speech; not only have it pure in 
rhetoric and grammar,^but also have it free from profanity, 
obscenity, slang and unjust assertions. 

Oh, that I could make every soul on this earth feel as I 
feel, at this moment, the awful responsibility of that eternal 
influence. Ah, what a change in society ! Each vieing 
with the other in doing good to humanity, and shedding 
abroad that sweet, that holy influence, which seems like the 
echo of some distant, silvery bell, borne to your tired ear 
by gentle zephyrs, so deliciously sweet, luring you from 
earth and care, to the mansions above. 

Teach the children to know how to do manual labor, nor 
think it a disgrace, nor mean and low. The most of our 
truly noble men were self-made, who earned their bread by 
the sweat of their brows, and actually worked with their 
hands to earn their living and education. 

They were better for it; they had not only a stronger and 
better physique, but a far better understanding of the masses 
in life. Their sympathy was keener for those struggling 
upward, and their hearts more ready to give the helping 


EDUCATION. 


l8o 


hand. Not only have noted men worked, but many noted 
ladies. See the active, earnest lives of our most noted, most 
noble ladies. Teach the little ones, when old enough to 
understand, to have some little duty to which they must 
attend, and bear the responsibility of it. Gradually increase 
these duties, if it is no more than to put their playthings 
into their proper places; thus they acquire habits of order, 
self-reliance, (a thing to be commended in every one), and 
responsibility. In all feasible ways, engender and cultivate 
these qualities, for they eiioble the child, as well as the man 
and woman. 

It may not be necessary for them now to work, but it may 
in the uncertain future. Frequently the golden friend, on 
which .so many rely, takes to itself wings and flits away like 
a summer cloud before a western cyclone, leaving behind it 
sorrow and desolations. In such cases it is sometimes well 
to know how to do even hand labor, and if not, it shows 
wisdom to know how work should be done. It is also a 
point of economy to know if our employees are doing as 
they ought. Many times fortunes are squandered by im* 
proper management of employees and a lack of superintend- 
ence by employers, either from ignorance or carelessness. 

Most of boys are either taught a trade or started in some 
business, while many of our girls are only taught to dress, 
go out, and receive company; of course they have a certain 
education, but of how much practical use is it ? Could they, 
if thrown quickly on their own abilities, earn a living ? Some 
of them could, but how about the majority ? Are the girls 


EDUCA TION. 


i8i 

ashamed to do house-work ? Well, they are not ashamed to 
take the position of house-wife, and ought to know how to 
discharge the duties of the same. 

Some one has said we have no girls nowadays; but I am 
proud to say we have girls now; just as true and tender- 
hearted as the girls of fifty years ago. True, they are not 
the same, for the teaching is different. Then they were 
children until sixteen or seventeen, and only then began 
society going. Now they are taught to follow style, no 
matter how its done; they are misses from ten years, and by 
the time they are seventeen, they have passed the role of 
beaux, parties, love-making and engagements. They have 
no more to learn, and are now ready for marriage. 

If they are not selected by some of the masculines by 
that time, they are in danger of old maidenhood, for all the 
boys have flirted with them and must have tired of them, if 
not caught by their charms. The neglected young lady 
must then fit up her wardrobe and start out on a visit or 
travel, to “ make a mash ” on some stranger. 

Formerly they were taught to sew, knit, cook, wash, iron, . 
et caetera, and besides being better prepared to care for the 
house, they had better health, for the most of their days and 
nights had been spent at home, where they had necessary 
rest. Now so much time is spent in going and keeping 
late hours, that our Carries and Mauds, who make them- 
selves so attractive, really suffer, when compared to the 
strong, healthy, matronly Carolines and Jeraldines of former 


i 82 


EDUCA TION. 


days. Their hearts are as true and tender, their mental 
capacities just as good, but their teaching is different, and 
they are delicate, dependent, nervous creatures. While the 
former could not only love to distraction, but could serve 
a palatable dinner and engineer the hou.sekeeping expenses 
according to income; besides having a strong constitution 
wherewith to care for the family and frequently visit their 
sick neighbors. Neither were they altogether illiterate; 
many times we find them quite in advance in book knowl- 
edge and quite as gentle and ladylike in appearance. 

In short, teach the children, the blessed children, to rely 
on God, to depend on self, to be patient, persevering, pru- 
dent, generous, kind, cheerful and genteel. 

We should always bear in mind that our education affects 
our home life, social life, political life and eternal life. Let 
us endeavor to lead the children to see this and comprehend 
it more and more as they grow older; always awakening in 
their minds a thirst for knowledge and a longing for a truly 
practical, as well as an ornamental, education. 

Education ! how my heart thrills 
At the very sound, of 
A word so vastly great, 

Of meaning so profound. 

Yet commonly perverted 
To a meaning very small — 

The knowledge of a few school-books, 

And that, oh — that — is all. 


EDUCA TION. 


183 


Ah me ! that the people might awake 
To it’s meaning full and grand 
And bend their noblest energies, 

To revolutionize our land. 

That Columbia, fair Columbia, 

The home of the brave and the free. 
Might stand first in true education 
And a world offer homage to thee. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE PROPOSAL. 

“ O, n6ble Ida in you I found 

My boyish dream involved and dazzled down 

And mastered, except you slay me here, 

1 cannot cease to follow you, as they say 

The seal does music; who desires you more 
Than — the breath of life; O more than poor men wealth. 
Than sick men health — yours, yours, not mine — but half 
Without you; with you whole.” 

— Tennyson. 

T'HE twenty-eighth of August, eighteen hundred seventy- 
six, was a bright, pleasant day; one to be much enjoyed 
by the company of young people who were gathered by a 
small, but clear little lake, the shores of which were low and 
green, shaded by stately old elms and chestnuts, whose lives 
had been spared to beautify the place. 

This small but happy company had come out to Chickadee 
lake to spend the day in festivity, in commemoration of 
Annis Warden’s majority; it being the custom of this circle 
of friends to meet and suitably commemorate the day on 
which any of their number should arrive at his or her 
majority. 


THE PROPOSAL. 


185 


It was also customary for the lady, in whose honor the 
day was celebrated, to dress in white, with a scarf and bows 
of such color as she might choose; accordingly Annis wore 
a white tarleton, tightly fitted and semi-train, with pink silk 
scarf passed over her right shoulder and knotted at the left 
side, hence gracefully looped backward with small bunches 
of white mountain daisies and tiny ferns; her long, heavy 
braids were coiled at the back of her head, and from these 
coils also,the little daisies and ferns peeped out; a coronet of 
ferns and mountain daisies, both pink and white, completed 
her attire. 

Annis certainly looked well, if not charming, as Harwood 
remarked to one of the gentlemen, who replied, that Annis 
usually dressed prettily and always omitted that surplus of 
jewelry and bows which so delight the hearts of some ladies. 

On occasions like this, it was usually customary for some 
of the gentlemen to give a short address, and this time it 
became the duty of Dr. Wade to give the address, which 
was appropriate, short and spicy. 

Music followed the address, and then one of the ladies 
read the following poem: 

ANNIVERSARY POEM. 

Twenty-one years have sped in rhyme 
Since you sailed from the spring of time; 

Your tiny bark had a faithful guide, 

Who kept close watch of wind and tide. 


THE PROPOSAL. 


You clapped your little hands in glee 
As you passed the brook of infancy; 

Your mother saw and quickly smiled. 

To see the pleasure of her child; 

Then a shadow flitted o’er her face 
As she tho't of the mad, mad race, 

Which must be run on youth’s wild sea. 

And raising her hands, prayed God for thee;. 
“Oh Father of omniscience, hark ! 

And guide Thou on, this little Bark.''' 

You glided on o’er childhood’s Stream, 

Which flowed so swift, all seemed a dream;, 
And, when the River formed a Bay, 

Just before you, the youth’s Sea lay. 

On this wild Sea, you then set sail. 

Beset by calm and tossed by gale; 

As you passed on, the Islets green 
Helped to enliven all the scene; 

The Mermaids to the surface came 
To lure you on in life’s check’d game; 

The Coral-reef, with its red glare, 

Allured, still told of dangers there. 

Fearful, lest storms should overwhelm. 

You prayed, “ Oh God, guide Thou the Helm." 

The Father, full of kindness, heard. 

And of your prayer lost ne’er a word. 

Guiding you on, o’er youth’s rough Sea, 

Now, launching your Bark full and free 
Out on the voyage you must make. 

Mark well, my dear, the course you take; 

Of all Sand-bars and Shoals, beware ! 

Sail round the Whirlpvo Is- ■w'lih. great care; 


THE PROPOSAL. 


187 


When life’s cold winds shall drive too glib, 

Tack your Main-sail, and haul the Jib, 

With Christ as Anchor of your soul, 

You sure, will reach the heavenly Goal. 

Oh Father, keep us in thy care. 

And land us safely, over there. 

After the reading of the poem more music was given, 
which constituted the finis of this part of the exercises. 

During these exercises Annis sat in the chair of state, 
which was canopied with the American flag, and nearly en- 
closed on three sides with evergreens and ivys, while the 
entire floor of the stand was strewn with eyergreens; at her 
right, in a chair of a trifle less dignity, sat her principal 
escort, Mr. Harwood, and back of him and a little to the 
right, stood three guardsmen with sheathed swords, and 
back of Annis and a little to her left, stood three maids, 
holding floral emblems, the anchor, cross and crown, 
respectively. 

At the conclusion of the. music, Annis and her escort, Mr. 
Harwood, stood to receive congratulations; first from the 
guardsmen and maids, then, from the remaining party. 

The first guard and maid presented themselves, and as 
the maid presented Annis with a floral anchor, she said, 
“Anchor your faith — ” then the second couple came, and as 
the second maid presented the cross, she finished the sen- 
tence begun by the first, simply adding, “In the Cross.” 
Then came the third, and making her presentation said, 
“And receive the Crown of Life.” 


i88 


THE PROPOSAL. 


The congratulations finished, the party fell in rank, double 
file, with Annis and Harwood as leaders, immediately fol- 
lowed by the guards and maids respectively. 

Marching to the foot of the table, the file divided, the 
gentlemen following Harwood up the left and the ladies 
following Annis up the right side of the table. Facing 
about, each gentleman dined opposite his lady. 

Dinner over, the party was at liberty to spend the re- 
mainder of the day in strolling, rowing, or in whatever way 
was most pleasing. 

Harwood asked Annis to stroll, which she did, and, after 
strolling for some time, they sat down on a grassy slope, 
v/here they could command a good view of their surround- 
ings. 

Back and on either side was a little plain, covered with 
velvety greensward, shaded and guarded by the faithful old 
sentinels of trees, who appeared to have stood there for 
centuries. Between the trees could be seen the speaker’s 
stand, looking fit for a fairy queen in its handsome 
decorations. 

In front lay the clear, rippling Chickadee lake, dotted 
with awn covered skiffs, whose occupants seemed either to 
be merrily chatting or singing, while strollers on the shore 
ever and anon hailed the passing skiffs with “Boat ahoy,” 
or, “Who goes there ?” 

The scene was a pleasant one, and, after viewing it a 
moment, Harwood remarked, “ This seems a fit place for 
fairies to dwell, and I feel half inclined to turn fairy and 


THE PROPOSAL. 


189 

remain here. I believe I should be most fully inclined if 
yQu would stay with me.” 

“I fear you would make a most decided mistake, if you 
had me remain; undoubtedly you would find me a perfect 
little Mars, now that I have passed my minority,” said 
Annis, smilingly. 

“ I should be willing to take my chances for that, but I 
fear if I should remain much longer Bob Hastings would 
send the blood-hounds after me; for he has written me 
most peremptorily to return to Colorado,” observed Har- 
wood, w^atching Arinis carefully. 

At this announcement a slight cloud flitted across Annis’ 
face, but it was so momentary that Harwood hardly knew 
whether it was actual or a freak of his imagination, and he 
continued, “ Read that and see what you think of my stay- 
ing longer,” and he tossed Bob’s letter into her lap. 

She read what the reader saw at the close of a previous 
chapter; blushing at the reference made to Merton’s popping 
and laughing at Bob’s off-hand manner of telling of his own 
marriage. Refolding it, she handed it to Merton, saying, 
“ I should think, if you deferred your return much longer, 
you would be minus an overseer.” 

“Yes, indeed. But did you note what he said in regard 
to its being time forme to pop ?” asked Flarwood. 

“ Yes,” replied Annis, “but-, being ignorant of your pre- 
vious correspondence, could hardly be expected to divine 
his meaning.” 


THE PROPOSAL. 


190 


“ Shall I explain ?” inquired Harwood. “That is a ques- 
tion your judgment should decide,” said she. 

“Very well then, my dear, I shall explain by making you 
a proposal of marriage, which is what I understand Bob to 
mean by ‘popping;’ so now. Miss Warden, on .this day of 
your majority, I offer you my hand and fortune; my heart 
I have not to offer, for that I lost years ago. Tell me, 
Annis, will you take me for better or worse until life shall 
end ?” 

“ I should hardly want a man without a heart,” she play- 
fully remarked. 

“ Ah ! but you have it in your possession, so, if you take 
the rest of me you will have the whole,” he observed. 

Annis did not scream nor faint, but, after a moment’s re- 
flection, she said in her busines-like way, “ Mr. Harwood, 
this is a very weighty piece of business to transact on this 
the first day of my real responsibility; to love you is no new 
thing, with me, for I have loved you since a mere child; 
although at times I had smothered the passion until I fan- 
cied it dead, yet, at the slightest provocation, it roused from 
its dormant state with renewed strength; but to be still 
more certain that our love is mutual and absolute, sufficiently 
so as to guarantee our happiness after marriage, I will 
accept your proposal on the following conditions: 

First, that you gain my parent’s consent; second, that for 
a year we be engaged with the understanding that if either 
of us finds another, whom we prefer, we shall be at full 
liberty to sever this partial engagement; and third, that a 


THE PROPOSAL, 


191 

year from to-day, if we still feel the same love for each 
other as to-day, the engagement shall be final and the 
wedding month selected. Does that satisfy you, my dear ?” 
she said, smiling as she noticed he looked down at her 
conclusion. 

“ I suppose it must; it is certainly a satisfaction to know 
you love me, for I love you most dearly, too well if it were 
not reciprocated; yet, I hoped it might be final to-day,” he 
said pressing her little hand in his; then he continued, “you 
do not know, Annis, how lonely I have been in the past and 
you cannot think how dreary life would be if I should lose 
you after having once thought you mine.” 

Harwood was looking at her most tenderly, and his eyes 
were pleading more eloquently than words could have done, 
for her to make the yea final; but she said, “Merton, listen 
to me a moment and you will think my plan wisely made. 
You must return almost immediately to Colorado, and 
attend to your business; it would be folly to return again in 
less than a year. During that time you may meet some 
lady, who will steal your heart from me, and, were you 
finally engaged, your honor would demand that you marry 
me; a husband without a heart I do not want. 

Again, the supposition may be visa versa, and a wife 
without a heart you do not want; now, if no other super- 
cedes me in your affections, nor you in my alfections, then 
we are finally engaged; and the probabilities are that a love, 
which has existed so long with nothing to encourage it, will 
not be likely to die with all our kindly arsurances to keep 


192 


THE PROPOSAL. 


it alive. You see, in not making the engagement final, we 
are only providing for a possibility which, in all probability, 
will never occur; besides, you need a little punishment to 
pay you for making me wait so long in ignorance, eh ? ’ she 
said, arching her brows and smiling coquettishly. 

“ I see, and accept the punishment, and shall consider it 
a bargain and stamp the agreement at once; to-morrow I 
shall call at your home and with your parents sanction and 
witness shall then seal you with my golden seal; always 
providing for the supposition of course,” he added, play- 
fully. 

He stooped, and the agreement, according to custom, 
was stamped between their ruby lips. He thought he was 
in heaven, but many a young man, aye, and woman too> 
has thought so; some of them even when, in reality, they 
stood on the very verge of misery. They sat for some mo- 
ments engaged with future plans, then, seeing a little skiff 
pull ashore, they arose and went for a row. 

Just as the sun, in his long, scarlet robe, was retiring to 
his blue canopied couch, with its soft, fleecy cloud pillows 
and roseate colored counterpanes, and was throwing good- 
night kisses to all the sweet faces of nature, our young 
friends betook themselves to their various homes, tired but 
happy. 

Harwood accompanied Annis to her home, and while 
thep stop a few moments at the gateway, reader, close your 
eyes and pass on; for have you ever tasted the enchanted 
nectar think of your own blissful moments of courtship; 


THE PROPOSAL. 


1Q3 


and if not, still pass on and think of what may be or might 
have been. 

The next evening Harwood called and held a private 
conference with Mr. and Mrs. Warden, after which, he held 
an interview with Annis and placed upon her finger a 
golden band, slightly traced, which w^as her birthday pres- 
ent and his seal as he said. 

The engagement was to be a secret until her twenty- 
second birthday and then if continued might be made 
known. 

Shortly after this, Harwood took his departure for Col- 
orado, leaving Annis’ head full of loving assurances, while 
his own was well stored. A promise to write regularly each 
week was made and we presume faithfully kept. 

Hope is the buoy of life, especially with the young, and 
this sustained Annis and Merton through the following 5’'ear. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A LETTER TO AGNES, 


Cherry Grove, September — , i8y6. 


OOD morning, my darling Aggie, and how are you this 



^ lovely morning ? I certainly hope you are well and 
enjoying a useful life for our dear Master. Do you know, 
dear, every day seems to make Jesus dearer to me and I 
often wonder how people can live who do not know Him. 
It seems as if I never could endure the disappointments 
of life without His loving sympathy and more than precious 
presence. And what have my disappointments been com- 
pared to those of many? Almost none. Besides, His love 
makes all my joys more complete; for I know he enjoys my 
happiness, when in accordance with the Father’s will, as 
much as I do myself; sometimes I think even more, as He 
is so much more capable of enjoyment and so entirely un- 
selfish. Is it not glorious to have such a dear, noble 
Friend ? One who never betrays nor fails to do for us the 
very best. Aggie, are you growing in His life? We must 
in the Christ Life, as in the temporal, either be growing, 
improving or retrogading; we can not well stand stand still. 
It grieves even me to see so many trying to stand still. 


A LETTER TO AGNES. 


195 


when in reality they are falling back. How this must 
grieve the Holy Spirit after the great sacrifice made for 
them and us. 

Well, dear, are you going to the exposition at Phila- 
delphia ? I had very much desired to do so but presume I 
shall not now, as it is getting too late in the season. How- 
ever, I feel I need not complain, as God has given me a 
very great blessing and treasure in the form of a human 
heart, hand and fortune. 

What ! can you not g^uess ? Why, it is no other than he 
who so long has held my own, although quite unwittingly. 
Oh ! you guess now, do you ? Yes, it is Merton Harwood. 
He came all the way from Colorado, to find me still free 
and happy to punish him, for not asking before, by making 
him wait a year for my final yea. For if either of us change 
our minds it will not be an engagement, but if not, it is yea. 

But it is only known to my parents, now to you, and will 
be told to Maud Squires when I write her again. How I 
love that girl ! But you two are to guard my secret well, 
eh ! Now, how do you and Will get along ? 

You missed a very pleasant occasion not being present at 
my twenty-first anniversary. We held picnic at Chickadee 
lake and Merton was my escort, so, of course, it was a 
pleasant occasion to me, but all the rest said it was a success 
in every way. 

Agnes, I do believe Dr. Wade is carried away with Maud 
Squires; when she visited me a few months since he seemed 
perfectly infatuated. Do you suppose the little minx will 


196 


A LETTER TO AGNES. 


give over Jemmy Connell for the Dr. ? What a pity Mand 
is not a Christian ! I am sure she ought to be and I am in 
hopes she will be, for I am praying for her and God prom- 
ises to hear our petitions. United prayer is especially 
promised a blessing; so unite with me in praying for her 
conversion. She never does things by halves, so, if she 
were a Christian she would use her best efforts in the good 
work. 

Do you know, I find it very beneficial to pray, earnestly, 
for those whose base actions make me almost detest them, 
or rather 'their actions; for I must love their soul, it must 
be very precious to me. If I am a Christian I must love 
every one and be anxious for their salvation. How much 
more, then, those whom I love by nature. 

Agnes, do you suppose it is right to thank the Lord when 
we see our friends die ? Well, I did do it when I saw our 
friend Abbie at rest, for it was certainly relief to see her 
released from such terrible agony. And she said, too, she 
was glad to be with Jesus. After she was really laid to 
rest in her narrow bed, my muse gave me some lines, which 
I will enclose to you as you will wish to keep them. 

“ Come over ” soon. I have so much to tell you and my 
letter is already too long. 

Yours, with much love, 

’tis swekt to be remembered. 

’Tis sweet to be remembered 
By those we love the best; 

’Tis sweet to know they miss us 
When we are gone to rest: 


A LETTER TO AGNES. 


197 


’Tis sweet to know the gentle tear 
Oft’ from the eye will start, 

When these hands of ours lie folded, 

Above a pulseless heart. 

’Tis sweet to know the loved ones 
So oft’ around our graves will stand, 

And talk of those who have journeyed 
To that happy spirit land; 

To know they’ll deck our graves with flowers, 
And bedew them with their tears, 

And watch by us so carefully. 

Through long and coming years. 

’Tis sweet to know, if we live aright. 

While we are traveling here. 

That when we’re called to leave this earth 
And the cherished ones, so dear; 

That when the spirit breaks the chain 
That binds it in its prison cell. 

It wings it’s upward flight to Jesus, 

“ Who doeth all things well.” 

’Tis sweet to know we have a Saviour, 

A ransomed sacrifice for man; 

’Tis sweet to know all may receive Him, 

For all v/ho wish to love Him can; 

Let the blest knowledge of that dear Redeemer 
Hush all your mournful caies. 

And prepare you the better to meet me 
In a home beyond the skies. 


Annis Warden. 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE world’s fair. 


Oh, thou year of 1876, 

So fraught with jubilee and rejoicing: 

Thou hundredth birthday of earth’s greatest, grandest republic ! 

One hundred years ago, our forefathers signed the bill that made them, 
free. 

And so they brought forth the infant of a nation that was to be; 

But now we are: and with the sound strength of a hundred successive 
years. 

Can full well rejoice; held back by naught of the servile bondmen’s fears. 
We are honored and blest beyond degree, for all nations of the earth 
Meet with us to celebrate the day, which gave this, our nation, birth. 
Hallelujah to God ! our Sovereign King, who rules us by his power, 

Who has blest and kept us since our birth ’til this Centennial hour. 

— The A uthor. 

bless my stars ! I am completely disgusted' 
’’ with centennials. Its centennial all the way down 
from centennial diamonds to a paper of centennial needles. 
I had thought, to miss attending the Centennial Exposition, 
at Philadelphia, ’would be a severe disappointment, but as 
the season rolls round, I am losing much of my enthusiasm, 
and all because I hear everything, from elegancy to insig- 
nificancy, modified by the word centennial. I hardly believe 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


199 


there is another nation under the sun, so given to hobbyism 
and riding that hobby to death, in a short time, as our own. 
A few years ago it was ‘Dolly Varden,’ and nothing could 
be beautiful nor otherwise, but what was ‘ Dolly Varden/ 
and now its ‘ Centennial.’ There !” said Annis Warden, with 
emphasis on the there, as she saw her mother smile, “what 
do you think of my speech ?” 

“ I think it sounds much like my little, impetuous Annis, 
trying to ‘ speechify ’ as it were,” said Mrs. Warden, still 
smiling, in an amused manner. “ Then you think you would 
not enjoy attending the Exposition at Philadelphia ?” con- 
tinued the mother, after a slight pause. 

“ Oh mother, I did not intend to be so understood !' I 
do not expect to go, but should most certainly enjoy it; 
however, I do not feel nearly so much animation at the 
thought of it, as I did at first; and I do really think the word 
centennial loses a great deal of its charm and dignity, so 
to speak, by being used in such common ways and applied 
to such common things,” observed Annis. 

“ I think something as you do concerning its too common 
use, for hearing it so frequently used in connection with 
such common places, we partially forget its real significance, 
and consequently, when not pausing to think, come to look 
upon this eventful era in the history of our country as some- 
thing of frequent occurrence; however, my child, do not say 
you are disgusted with centennials, for many of them are 
worthy earnest thought. You know the centennial,- which 
our loved and honored nation is now celebrating, is one 


200 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


which should awaken in every heart, throughout our land, a 
feeling of pride for the prosperous condition in which our 
nation now stands, after a life of a hundred years; a feeling 
of greater reverence for the good fathers, who labored and 
suffered untold things to bring it into existence; and above 
all a feeling of deeper love, firmer faith, brighter hope and an 
infinitely more earnest gratitude to God, the all merciful 
Father, who has cared for, blessed and prospered our loved 
country, through all the hundred years that are now just 
past. So, my dear, it is wise to think before you speak,” 
said Mrs. Warden, soberly. 

“ I fully appreciate your thoughts, mother, but I am afraid 
I shall never learn to always think carefully before I speak, 
yet the admonition is a good one,” replied- Annis, as she 
imprinted a kiss on her mother’s cheek and ran out in the 
yard to enjoy nature a few moments. 

Soon after this conversation Annis was at Fenton’s Cor- 
ners, when she met her friend Fannie Loomis, who accosted 
her with “ Good morning, Annis.” “Good morning, Fannie,” 
she replied. 

“ Going to the Centennial, Annis ?” “ No, it has already 

come to me.” “Oh, but 1 mean to Philadelphia?” “I > 
guess not; why are you ?’' “Yes.” “When?” “To-morrow.” 

“ Do you really start to-morrow ?” “ Yes sir-ee, to-morrow 

noon, and I want you to go with us.” “ Us, who is going 
with you ?” “ Brother Henri and his friend, Eddie Ken- 

nedy; but 1 want you to go with me, can you ?” 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


201 


“I hardly think I can, Fannie. “Well, you must spend 
the day with me, you can at least do that, eh ?” “ Perhaps, 

if father can come for me this evening,” said Annis, who 
was anxious to hear more of the prospective trip of her 
friends. • 

Away the two girls went in pursuit of Mr. Warden, and 
it was soon arranged that Annis should spend the day with 
the Loomises and Mr. Warden was to call for herat evening. 

On entering the Loomis’ parlor Annis was greeted by 
Henri and Madame Loomis, who soon re-echoed Fannie’s 
request that she would accompany the trio to Philadelphia, 
thence to New York and from there, via. the Hudson River, 
home. 

Through the day plans for the trip were discussed, and 
so far as politeness would permit, Annis was urged to join 
the party. 

When Mr. Warden arrived, and Annis was ready to bid 
her friends good night, her father said, “Have you decided 
to go ?” “ I cannot,” said Annis. “You can if you wish; 

your mother and I have discussed the matter, and decided 
you should go, if you desired,” said Mr. Warden, in a pleas- 
ant manner. 

“Oh, ’’cried Fannie clappingher hands in unfeigned delight, 
“then you must go.” “Go of course,” said Madame. “Why, 
of course she’ll go,” said Henri, with the decision of a lad 
of fourteen. 

It was arranged that Annis should meet the trio at the 
first station below Fenton’s Corners; then Annis and her 


202 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


father bade the Loomises good night, and drove homeward. 

It was nine o’clock when they reached home, but Annis 
told her mother of the decision, deliberately wrote a letter 
to her sweetheart, held her devotional exercises, and retired 
to rest as composedly as if nothing unusual were to occur 
on the morrow. 

Early the next morning Mrs. Warden was astir, prepar- 
ing chicken and other eatables for Annis’ lunch box, while 
Annis attended to the packing of a few articles, made her 
toilet, and ate her breakfast, which was no small thing in 
her estimation. 

At station she met her friends, and with light hearts 

and much anticipated pleasure, the quartette started on 
their way. 

It was the second day of October that our little party 
started for the “ Great World’s Fair.” The morning was 
clear; the woods had already donned its autumnal garb of 
bright and varied colors; orchards were loaded with red 
and golden fruit; all nature, as well as our young friends, 
presented a very cheerful aspect. 

On reaching Oswego, where they purchased tickets via. 
the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western Railroad, they found 
it necessary to remain over night. 

Boarding an early train they passed on to Syracuse, where 
they changed cars and proceeded to Binghamton, thence 
into Pennsylvania, where the scenery was decidedly differ- 
ent from that of central New York; the former beingthatof 
a generally level country, the latter of a mountainous country. 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


203 


Near Scranton, the Scranton coal mines were well adver- 
tised by high hills of refuse coal, which were dotted with 
poor women and children gathering the good bits which 
remained, in their baskets, either for their own consumption 
or sale. 

The small mountains of Scranton soon gave way to the 
.more elevated ones belonging to the range known as the 
Blue Ridge. 

This mountain scenery was decidedly novel to our young 
friends, who were used -to nothing more elevated than small 
hills; but to those who had traversed the peaks of the Rocky 
and Sierra Nevada ranges, these would appear rather minute. 

Winding around and down the mountains, where the scene 
is constantly changing, is quite sensational to those unused 
to such rides; while the sound of the train, which, echoes 
and re-echoes again and again from the different mountains, 
produces a deafening effect upon some people’s ears. 

It was some time after passing down one of these moun- 
tains, before Annis sufficiently regained her hearing to 
understand what her friend Fannie said, although they 
occupied the same seat. 

When they reached the Delaware Water Gap it was moon- 
light, but they could see the mountains on either side, and 
the silvery stream between, wending its way quietly, yet 
decidedly, toward the faithful arm of its parent, the mighty 
sea. 

What an emblem of the true Christian ! breaking his way 
through mountains of sin and temptation; radiant, not by 


204 


THE WORLD S FAIR. 


the reflection of the moon’s face, but by the reflection of the 
Christ life, wending his way onward quietly, but firmly, toward 
the faithful arm of his parent, the Almighty God, but ever 
loving and merciful Father. Not like the waters, to return 
again in time, through this earthly channel, but to rest, aye, 
ever rest with God and the Lamb, as a reward for steadfast- 
ness while wending his way onward and upward. 

But while I have been tracing the similarity, our friends 
have passed on with the Delaware to the city of Trenton, 
where we find them already ensconced at the Hotel de Na- 
tionale, for the night. 

During the day our friends had fallen in with another 
party of four, from Oswego, viz.; D. G. Fortames, his daugh- 
ter, Calla, Satie Northrup and Miss Frost. 

These two parties united, and with Mr. Fortames as cap- 
tain, they went it eight strong, until the Centennial visit was 
completed and New York city reached, where they again 
separated, each party, thenceforth, going its own way. 

But now we are going before, let us hasten back to the 
Flotel de Nationale, and play the part of eavesdropper at 
the door of Annis’ and Fannie’s room, for a few moments. 
There is laughing inside and Henri Loomis is saying: “Why, 
Fan, that porter took you to be our mother, for he enjoined 
us several times to notice carefully our way, as our mother 
wished us to return to her; and his parting injunction was, 
‘ Now boys, do not do forget that your mother desired to see 
you soon,’ and so we hurried back, lest we should incur our 
mother’s displeasure.” 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


205 


Here the boys fairly rolled in laughter, as lads of fourteen 
will, while Fannie appeared a trifle chagrined at the unwit- 
ting reflection on her matronly appearance; although in 
reality but twenty-four, she had, in her habit of gray and 
sobriety of manners, impressed this individual as a matron at 
least between thirty and forty. 

The boys promptly saw the point, and like the more aged 
of their'sex, could not refrain from placing the matter in the 
most ludicrous light possible, and while Annis laughed mer- 
rily, she said, “You know, boys, Fannie was tired and the 
porter only saw the sober side of her character, while those 
who see her for any length of time cannot refrain from see- 
ing the merry sunshine of her youthful nature, and would 
scarcely judge her twenty.” 

“ That is true, at least, sometimes, for occasionally she 
displays her sunshine of youthfulness to such an extent and 
utters such youthful observations, that a stranger might eas- 
ily mistake her for my junior,” said Henri, straightening 
himself up and assuming an air of superiority, then added, 
carelessly, “that is, if he did not see her face.” 

All laughed at his after thought, and Annis dryly remarked. 
Very likely at such times as you mention, Fannie put forth 
an effort to bring herself within the circuit of the youthful 
comprehension of her associates; besides. Master Henri, 
do not flatter yourself that you are very young looking, for 
I see unmistakable signs of age across your upper lip and 
on the sides of your handsome cheeks.” 


2o6 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


Now the laugh was at Henri’s expense, for the dark fuzz 
which persistently grew on his face, was a source of torment 
to him, and Annis thought a dose of his own mixture might 
curb his teasing mood, and bring Fannie momentary relief. 

The laugh subsided and Fannie said, “Now for business;” 
of course we take the hint, to eavesdrop longer would be 
unkind. 

October fourth found the band of eight outward bound 
on the early train for Philadelphia; on arriving there they 
engaged board and lodgings at the A hotel, on the cor- 
ners of streets. 

Board was given on the European plan, but lodgings were 
high and must be paid for in advance. 

It is not the writers intention to give a description of the 
Centennial grounds, but merely to give a few pages copied 
from Annis’ note book. 

OCTOBER 4, 1876. 

“To-day we visited the Main Building, which is 1880 feet 
long, 464 feet wide and 70 feet high, covering an area of 
2 1 acres. Its contents appear before my mind’s eye to-night, 
in a vast and rapidly changing medley, in which elegant 
upholstery, odd time-pieces, magnificent cabinet ware, mu- 
sical instruments, tapestry carpets, Norwegian images, great 
varieties of pottery, brilliant diamonds with other precious 
stones, engraven images, china and glass ware, et caetera, 
et caetera, are intermingled miscellaneously. Prominently 
among the rest I see the mammoth glass chandelier sus- 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


207 


pended by a heavy chain above the immense glass display 
belonging to the Queen, (I suppose Victoria Regina.) 

Thickly mingled with this miscellany of inanimate things, 
I see all classes of people, whose heads move like the 
surging waves of a tumultuous sea, in this vast hall of art, 
industry and nature. 

Just before leaving, we mounted the spiral stairs (which 
were divided into sections, each section bringing you into a 
gallery) of about 170 or 180 steps, which finally brought us 
to the grand observatory, where we had an extended view. 

Having descended and withdrawn to one of the many 
rustic seats outside, we heard the great bell on Machinery 
Hall chiming ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ ‘Lilly Dale,’ ‘ The Old 
Folks at Home,’ and so forth, thus sweetly reminding the 
immense throngs that the- hour of departure had arrived. 

Not one by one but many by many the people passed out; 
while we sat listening until the musical monster ceased its 
chiming, then we reluctantly took our leave of the beautiful 
grounds. Fortunately we had but to cross the street and 
so could quit the realms of beauty and magnificence among 
the last of the crowds. Now the grounds are vacated by 
all save those who have a right to remain, the gates are 
closed, and we are in our rooms tired and sleepy.” 

OCTOBER 5, 1876. 

“ Visited Machinery Hall. Machines for sewing, knitting, 
spinning, weaving, dressing, threshing, printing and almost 
every kind of labor, were here represented. They were of 


208 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


all names and natures; of course, the best and most perfect 
being here exhibited and worked. One attractive feature 
of the Hall was the Artificial Niagara, worked by centrifu- 
gal pumps, which forced the water to a height of forty feet, 
I should judge, whence, in a sheet, it rolled over a convexed 
surface and dropped with considerable splashing into a 
pond below, which I should think was nearly one hundred 
feet long by thirty or forty wide; from this pond the water 
was again withdrawn, and sent up and over the fall, making 
quite a display of man’s invention. 

Before noon there was such a buzzing, humming and 
clattering in this Hall, that one could scarcely hear, but at 
twelve o’clock it ceased and at one o’clock it recommenced. 
What is the cause of this simultaneous stopping and be- 
ginning you ask; and find the answer in that huge, iron 
monster, which occupies a central position in the building, 
and whose heart throbs have power to make the veins of 
these ntultitudes of machines to beat with her pulsations 
and lie silent at their ceasing. This great center of motive 
power is known as the Corliss engine and has power to work 
all the machines exhibited in this building, which is 1,402 
feet long, 365 feet wide, covering an area of nearly twelve 
acres. 

The giant Corliss had, for its companion, the baby engine 
made of brass and worked by the use of alcoholic spirits, 
being complete and but an inch long. This tiny speck of 
mechanism was constructed in Iowa. Machinery Hall is 
situate on a line with the main building, and, although 550 


THE WORLHS FAIR. 


20 () 

feet apart, the tv/o are connected by a covered way, and 
thus the two cover an area of between thirty-three and 
thirty-five acres. 

We also visited Agricultural Hall, whose parallelogram is 
820 feet by 540 feet, covering about ten acres. It contains 
a very great variety of agricultural implements and a vast 
amount of agricultural productions. 

Among other things we saw a specimen of bark from the 
Sequoid Gigantea or big tree of California* This specimen 
Was three feet thick. 

Another thing we saw, worthy mention, although not an 
agricultural product, and that was ‘ Old Abe,’ the eagle 
from Arkansas, who spent three years in the Rebellion, a 
member of the Union army, many a time soaring above the 
din of battle, returning again to his regiment unharmed at 
the battle’s close. 

‘ Old Abe ’ has a white head and beak, w'ith light eyes and 
brown body. He was untrammeled and stood on his perch 
like a king on his throne, surveying the throngs who passed 
him with cool scrutiny as if reading them like a book, and 
enjoying their admiration with a feeling of superiority. 

We next took a turn about the Woman’s Pavilion. There 
were many exhibits, some very fine, but to my small mind 
it seems that the ladies must take the rear ranks in art, at 
least in what is generally termed art; yet there are arts in 
which they excel, such as art-ifice and art-ificial. 

For shame ! some would cry, to call your own sex con- 
trivers and artificial; yet it is so of a truth, generalizing 


210 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


Of course there are exceptions to all rules, this included. 
But if, in my opinion, ladies instead of devoting so much 
time to artifice and artificial, would study the higher and 
more enobling arts, much more temporal and eternal good 
might be accomplished. Nor is this applicable to women 
only, but also to the opposite sex. 

But I am expressing opinions instead of noting what I 
saw, and, to return to the exhibits, I will speak of the Sleep- 
ing Beauty, moulded in butter, known as the butter woman, 
which is indeed a beauty whether it is a bit of artifice or 
actually made, as stated by a Mrs. Brooks, of Arkansas, by 
the use of a common butter ladle, a few broom straws and 
sticks. It is very natural and really displays an artist’s 
genius. 

While we were in the Woman’s Pavilion, which, by the 
way, was erected by the women of America and cost over 
forty thousand dollars, the chimes sounded and we betook 
ourselves to the hotel. 

Ah, how the music of bells linger in the memory ! Oft’ 
do I recall the bells of Ricksport and in the future how oft’ 
will return, at the stroke of memory’s magic wand, the 
sweet, sweet chimes of Centennial Bells.” 

OCTOBER 6, 1876. 

‘‘Visited State Buildings. The finest display of all these, 
was in the Kansas and Colorado Building. These two 
states united and instead of exhibiting their state collections 
in the main exhibition buildings, placed them in their State 
Building. 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


21 1 

Suspended in the main hall of the Kansas department 
was a large representation of the Centennial Bell made of 
long grass, called ‘ Millet,’ I think. The representation was 
excellent, even displaying the crack made in the real bell 
as the good, old, white haired sexton enthusiastically rung 
out the glad tidings of victory and freedom. 

With this thought there rises up before my imagination a 
grand, a glorious picture. The sexton with aged form, 
snowy locks and trembling limbs, standing near his charge 
when the news of freedom reach him; with bounding heart, 
flashing eyes and renewed vigor he pulls the rope, which 
caused the bell with clarion voice to proclaim independence 
for the newborn nation. As if speaking his own heart’s joy 
through the tones of the bell, and wishing to gladden the 
hearts of more by sending the news still farther o’er the 
land, he gives one mighty tug, when lo ! as though its end 
was near, its work completed, with one, long cry of joy, it 
rends its side and dies. 

Dies to sound but not to sight, for still it remains a strik- 
ing emblem of the broken yoke of English tyranny; the 
crack illustrating the crooked but irreparable chasm, which 
so suddenly yawned between the mother and infant nations, 
and which, in the case of the bell, so decidedly made the 
one — twain. 

Yet, although the bell remains the same and the yawning 
chasm of separation still exists, still it has, in the years gone 
by, been spanned by the golden chords of friendship, and 
with united hands the mother and child celebrate the day 


212 


THE tro ELD'S PAIR. 


of America’s independence. God be praised for the kindly 
feeling and may it live on through infinity is the prayer of 
my heart. 

Ah ! again I am deviating from the strict record of facts, 
but where is the difference ? They are my own thoughts, 
penned in my own book, for my own eyes to peruse in the 
future, and I am glad they are there. It will be pleasant 
in the future to recall the thoughts, which this exposition ' 
of ’76 have called out in my little mind. 

Another curiosity in the Kansas department was the 
stuffed skin of a white buffalo. It was about the size of a 
small cow, with short horns, and did not have the appear- 
ance of having been a ferocious animal. The vegetable 
productions of this state were very fine. 

In the Colorado department was a rare collection of 
animals and birds, captured and taxidermiated by a lady 
in that state. 

I now skip over to the xArt Gallery, which is a fine build- 
ing, 365 feet long and 210 feet wide. Its general height is 
59 feet, but to the to{) of its dome it is 150 feet, on the top 
of which is a statue of Washington. The building is com- 
posed of gray granite, has many lobbies, halls and galleries 
and several open courts surrounded by these galleries. The 
display inside was large, various and elegant. 

We also visited the United State’s Building and Horti- 
cultural Hall, the latter of which disappointed m.e much. 

I think the most of the contents must have been removed. 


THE WORLDS FAIR. 


C13 

as it is quite late. This Hall is 3S3 feet long, 193 feet 
wide and 72 feet high, with a lantern of 170 feet. 

This being our last day on the grounds I will say a few 
things concerning them. They have an area of 500 acres; 
contain 7 main exhibition, 42 public and 177 buildings in 
all; has 90 miles in walks and avenues and 7 miles of fence; 
there is a force of 500 police and 300 firemen and there are 
11,000 exhibitors and people engaged at work on the 
grounds. 

A centennial railroad winds its way around the grounds, 
and across a little valley is erected an aerial railroad. 

Various and handsomely wrought fountains greet the eye 
frequently, lending a charm to the place; while odd bazaars, 
each attended by its own peculiarly dressed natives, tend to 
make the scene at once attractive and picturesque. 

To-night I probably listened for the last time to the Cen- 
tennial chimes, as we intend starting to-morrow for New 
York city. 

The following lines are dictated by my pet sister muse, 
and I shall write them here in my little memorandum and 
christen them — 

A FAREWELL TO CENTENNIAL CHIMES. 

Farewell sweet chimes ! to mein’ry dear, 

Oft’ will your secret, gliding notes, 

Come back to me, in echoes clear, 

Come as a zephyr floats. 

You'll come, at morning’s early flush. 

From mountain, hill and vale, 


214 


THE WORLD'S FAIR. 


You’ll come, at twilight’s holy hush, 

With ‘ Poor, Lost Lillie Dale.’ 

When weary, faint, and wanting rest. 

As, amid life’s cares I roam. 

With your dear presence I’ll be blest. 

Bringing ‘ The Old Folks at Home.’ 

As by moonlight I list again 
To hear your pleasant chime; 

You’ll play for me the sweet refrain. 

The Sco’tta’s ‘ Auld Lang Syne,’ 

When I am gay, and happy too, 

‘ A Coming Through the Rye,’ 

Then, there will come the far echo 
Of, ‘ The Sweet By and By.’ 

So, farew’ell, bells, to me so dear, 

A long farewell to you; 

Till I the pearly gates shall near. 

Farewell, adieu, adieu.” 

OCTOBER 7, 1876. 

“ Having taken an early morning’s drive, and breakfasted, 
we prepared to take the first train for New York city. Our 
ride from Philadelphia to New York was marked by no in- 
cident of importance. On reaching this place we said 
adieu to Mr. Fortame’s party, and found a home for the 
present with Mr. White, an uncle of Fannie’s. 

After seeing something of the city, we intend taking a 
trip up the Hudson.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


“our trip up the HUDSON.” 

“ What though no cloister gray nor ivied column; 

Along these clifts, their sombre ruins rear ! 

What tho’ no froAvning tower nor temple solemn, 

Of tyrants tell, or superstition here ! 

There’s not a verdant glade nor mountain hoary. 

But treasures up the memories of Freedom’s story.” 

T'HE reader will judge rightly, from the heading of this 
chapter, being a quotation, that the entire chapter is 
copied from Annis’ journal. 

“This morning we find ourselves on board a steamer en 
route for Albany. The weather is fine, the sun shining 
brightly and the air balmy; we are on deck and intend see- 
ing all that is possible of this far famed American Rhine. 

The first notable object we meet is the form of the well- 
known Palisades, which at first sight, appear like a massive 
rock wall, and are from three to five hundred feet high, 
extending along the western side of the river for a distance 
of nearly twenty miles, very effectually protecting the beau- 
tiful stream from western storms. At second sight, or on a 
closer observation, the beholder receives a different impres- 
sion than at first, for the strata of these rocks seem vertical. 


2i6 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON. ’ 


thus presenting on their face the appearance of a long line 
of immense spikes, very compactly driven into a bed below 
the surface of the water and thus protecting the land from 
an invasion of the water. It is this spiked like appearance 
of the strata, which gives these rocks the name of Palisades. 
On the top of these numerous columns of strata stands a 
vast forest, whose giant trees, so far up in the air, seem to 
us on the boat, like shrubs gently swaying to and fro. 

Huge masses of rock have frequently let go their hold 
toward the top of the cliff, and tum.bled down until stayed 
by those which have preceeded them, making the lower part 
of the wall jagged; and along this base are many sheltered 
nooks, giving variety to the picture and occasionally con- 
taining a single cottage with a little cultivated plateau, 
which fact plainly tells the passer-by that people, instead of 
elves, inhabit the nooks along our western Rhine. 

Having ridden about seventeen miles in a slightly north- 
easterly direction from the Empire city, we find ourselves 
nearing Yonkers, a town of the ‘long ago,’ which is reputed 
to have been the birth-place of Mary Phillips, who was once 
the inamorata of our noble Washington, and after, became 
the wife of Colonel Morris. 

Still ‘onward and upward,’ we arrive at Sing Sing, which 
is state-wide known for its prison, more than aught else; 
although the town itself is composed of truly elegant villas, 
erected on an acclivity of 200 feet elevation, commanding a 
wide-spread and beautifully picturesque view of the river 
and surrounding lands. 


''OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON.” 


217 


South of the village, about a mile, on the very bank of the 
river, stands an imposing edifice with iron latticed windows 
and heavy looking doors; its walls are strong and gray and 
its entire aspect dismal. Oh give me a life of freedom and 
honesty, with a trade outside, rather than within the dingy 
old walls of Sing Sing Prison. 

About forty-six miles north of New York, on the east side 
of the river, built on the slope of a height, which has an 
elevation of 200 feet, is the town of Peekskill, named after 
its founder, John Peek, a dutchman. 

Some distance south of Peekskill is a point rising gradu- 
ally from the river and terminating in a bluff 40 or 50 feet 
in height; it is here, tradition says, Henry Hudson anchored 
his ship, the Half Moon. This point is called Verplank’s 
Point, in memory of Philip Verplank; it is said his wife’s 
grandfather purchased it of the Indians. 

History tells us that in the vicinity of Peekskill, on a 
height known as Gallows Hill, (so called because the exe- 
cution place 6 i one Nathan Palmer, a British spy). General 
Putnam with his men, at one time encamped. 

Caldwell’s Landing is just opposite Peekskill, on the west 
side of the river, near the foot of Dunderberg, which is the 
dutch name, I suppose, for Thunder mountain. Tradition 
says search was once made here for Captain Kidd, who was 
supposed to have been hidden at the bottom of the river. 
(We get our information from the crew, who appear to know 
the traditions here along from A to Z; undoubtedly they 
tell the same rigmarole to each.) 


2i8 


'' OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON. 


Gliding round the mountain, we steam out into the ‘Horse 
Race,’ which is a narrow passage, and through which the 
water rushes with great rapidity. 

This high walled channel forms the southern entrance of 
the river into the Highlands; at this point the river makes 
a decided ‘ a la mande left,’ taking a direct westerly course 
for nearly a mile, having the wild rocky flanks of Dunder- 
berg on the south and the bold ‘ Anthony’s Nose,’ on the 
north, 

‘Anthony’s nose ’ is the name of a mountain situate at 
this bend of the river, and having connected with it a 
legend, for which I shall here leave space and copy at home, 
as given by Knickerbocker. ‘ It must be known that the 
hose of Anthony (Anthony Van Corlear, trumpeter to Gov- 
ernor Stuyvesant,) the trumpeter, was of a very lusty size, 
strutting boldly from his countenance, like a mountain of 
Golconda; being sumptuously bedecked with rubies and 
other precious stones — the true regalia of a king of good 
fellows, which jolly Bacchus grants to all who bouse it heart- 
ily at the flagon. Now thus it happened, that bright and 
early in the morning, the good Anthony, having washed his 
burly visage, was leaning over the quarter railing of the 
galley, contemplating it in the glassy waves below; just at 
this moment the illustrious sun, breaking in all his splendor 
from behind one of the high bluffs of the Highlands, did 
dart one of his most potent beams full upon the refulgent 
nose of the sounder of brass, the reflection of which shot 
straightway down, hissing hot, into the water, and killed a 
mighty sturgeon, that was sporting beside the vessel. 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON.” 


219 


This huge monster, being with infinite labor hoisted on 
board, furnished a luxurious repast to all the crew; being 
accounted of excellent flavor, excepting about the wound, 
where it smacked a little of brimstone. And this, on my 
veracity, was the first time that ever sturgeon was eaten, in 
these parts, by Christian people. 

When this astonishing miracle came to be made known to 
Peter Stuyvesant, and that he tasted of the unknown fish, 
he, as may well be supposed, marveled exceedingly; and as 
a monument thereof, he gave the name of Anthony's Nose^ 
to a stout promontory in that neighborhood, and it has con- 
tinued to be called Anthony’s Nose ever since that time,’ so 
says Knickerbocker. 

In 1777 there were two forts standing opposite Anthony’s 
Nose, and across the river were heavy chains and a strong 
boom to prevent boating; their names were Montgomery 
and Clinton, and to-day they are subjects of history. 

While I have been beholding, and writing, our little 
steamer has been pushing her way onward among the High- 
land of eastern New York, and now we are at West Point. 

This town is full, so to speak, of historical events. It was 
here that Arnold, the treacherous knave, planned, and for a 
few hundreds, sold his nation, and by his villainous schem- 
ing brought about, indirectly, the sad end of young Andre, 
who was executed as a British spy. 

These are sad and evil records, but on the other hand it 
was at this same West Point, that La Fayette, a Frenchman, 


220 


^OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON. 


and Kosciusko, a Pole, two true, bold, knights of freedom, 
and noble friends of our Revolutionary fathers, displayed 
their heroism and love of right. These two brave heroes 
rest, but the effect of their labor still lives. People may talk 
of Bonaparte, and sing his praises loud, but Americans will 
ever hold in sacred love the cherished memory of Kosciusko 
and La Fayette. 

West Point is situate on a rocky point jutting out into the 
river, which, hereabouts, winds its way round mountains and 
through rocky gorges, making sudden turns, all of which 
necessitate a constantly varying and strikingly picturesque 
scenery, wild and beautiful to an admirer of nature’s works. 

Withal, the Hudson River scenery strikes me as partaking 
of sublimity, and my heart can but feel awe and reverence 
for the Artist, who could so effectually, and yet so harmo- 
niously, blend together in one landscape view, that which 
should clearly portray to the observer. His own individual 
self. The mountains and river illustrating the heighth, 
depth and never-failing love of His heart; the massive rock 
walls, at once bespeaking the strength, boldness and firm- 
ness of His character; while the green, grassy slopes, moss 
covered nooks and little shady glens, remind one of nothing 
but the love, happiness and peace, which He so willingly 
and liberally bestows. 

But here my thoughts are unceremoniously interrupted by 
the appearance of a fleet of twelve sloops, tacking round 
West Point, which they leave well at their right, flying like 
so many sea-gulls, towards Anthony’s Nose, whence they will 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON." 


221 


be whisked round the Dungerberg in a hurry, and sent on 
their straight course for the Metropolis. 

Since we have started, we have met and passed many 
sloops, some floating gently, like swans, and others hurry- 
ing, but here, they fly; breezes, coming down the mountains 
through the gorges and ravines, seem anxious to hurry them 
from sight. 

How characteristic of real life ! some individuals floating 
down life’s stream, apparently, all unconscious of the trials 
and triumphs of active life; others, conscious of duties and 
anxious to accomplish something, are hurrying about doing 
good to themselves and others; while still another class are 
driven, hither and thither, by the ill winds of temptation and 
adversity, as if the God of Destruction wished to hurl them 
from the river of Time, out and down, into the gulf of per- 
dition for the gloating of his demons. But I am sailing out 
on the sea of comparison and aberration, and hence will re- 
turn to West Point. 

The mountains here rise to heights from five to fifteen 
hundred feet above the water, forming precipices through 
which the river flows in sullen majesty. (Our steamer is 
plying her way, but I shall continue to write of West Point.) 

These mountains are covered from base to summit, with 
luxuriant autumnal foliage, and seem vieing with each other 
in the gayness of their dress. 

At the southwest of the town, on a point of the High- 
lands, 598 feet in air, surrounded on three sides by steep 
ascents and deep ravines, are the ruins of Fort Putnam, one 


222 


“( 967 ? TRIP UP THE HUDSON. 


of the strongest of revolutionary fortreses; the natural sur- 
roundings forming the most effectual fortifications, and mak- 
ing it accessible only on one side. This Fort, together with 
the Point, jutting out into the river and partially debaring 
navigation, very naturally formed one of the strongholds for 
American soldiery. Crowning the West Point bluff stands a 
handsome marble column, erected to the memory of Kos- 
ciusko. It seems to me it should have a companion, to the 
memory of the equally brave and noble La Fayette. 

Looking north and i8o feet above the river, back from 
the bluff overhanging it, extends a plateau nearly a mile 
square, forming a fine parade ground, on the side of which, 
next the mountain, stands West Point’s Military Academy, 
which was established in the year 1802, by the United States 
Congress, and is supported by Uncle Sam. The view from 
the plateau must be magnificent, but we are homeward 
bound and cannot linger. 

The northern passage of the river through the Highlands, 
from which our steamer has just emerged after a journey of 
ten or twelve miles, is a gorge, narrow and serpentine, mak- 
ing it necessary for the helmsmen of the numerous sailing 
craft to have a close eye to their work. 

Upon emerging from this gorge we find ourselves on the 
bosom of a most lovely lake, some ten miles in length; at 
our left lies Newburg, and after a short stop we glide onward. 

Here the scene is entirely different from that previously 
met on the river; sloping away from the shores of this lake, 
rise rich cultivated fields with fine buildings. 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON. 


223 


As we are hurried along we catch glimpses of neat farm 
houses, with their accompanying orchards now laden with 
red and golden fruit; elegant villas peep out from amidst 
tufts of bright dyed foliage, which surrounds them; mea- 
dows are still green, but grain fields are reaped and cleared; 
occasionally a forest presents itself to view only to give place 
again to cultivated fields. 

The water, so blue and still, seems like a bright polished 
floor, where one could walk at will, but at thought of the 
consequences of such a walk, we shudder and can scarcely 
refrain from exclaiming. Oh, treacherous, treacherous deeps ! 
how soon would you swallow us from sight were the oppor- 
tunity given. 

Having sailed the length of the lake we arrive at Pough- 
keepsie, the largest town on the river between Albany and 
New York; it was named from the Indian word ‘ A-po- 
keep-sing,’ signifying ‘ safe harbor.’ 

Poughkeepsie is the capital of old Dutchess county, and 
has a reputation as a manufacturing town; it is situated in 
fertile lands and has a very active trade, for which it is well 
located, having two immense thoroughfares, in the form of 
the Hudson River and the New York Central & Hudson 
River Railroad. This town was founded by the Dutch in 
1735 a very pleasant out look. 

Proceeding onward, after passing several small towns of 
less notoriety, we reach Catskill; here we are near the Cats- 
kill Mountains, and how I long to rest at the Mountain 


224 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUD SON P 


House; stand on the summit of Round Top, which has an 
elevation of 3800 feet; and sit at the base of High Peak, 
whose elevation is some 80 feet less than that of Round Top. 
The latter named, is the highest of the Catskill group. 

But while I have been longing, we have been borne along 
to Hudson City, named in honor of Henry Hudson, and 
one of the most important commercial towns on the river. 
They say it commands a fine view of the Catskill Mountains, 
or rather people can, from Prospect Hill, an elevation just 
at the rear of the city. The bank here juts out into the 
stream, forming a good promenade ground, especially pleas- 
ant if in company with an agreeable and handsome escort, 

such as well, never mind who; how I wish he was here 

to enjoy this with me. But the day is drawing toward its 
close, as is also our pleasant ride. 

Onward we glide o’er the clear rolling tide and by and by 
our little steamer, with a puff and a splash, will throw out 
her plank at Albany wharf. 

Albany, the capital of New York state, is the oldest set- 
tlement in the Union, excepting Jamestown, Virginia, and 
was settled by the English in i6o8. In 1623 the Dutch 
erected Fort Orange, on what is now a part of the present 
city site; A. D. 1664 it received the name of Albany, in 
honor of James, Duke of York and Albany. 

It has been chartered as a city since 1684, and has flow- 
ing through it, two immense tides, one of humanity the other 
trade. But stop ! the whistle screams and there is a commo- 
tion; book hie into my pocket and stay, until called thence. 


225 - 


OUR TRIP UP THE HUDSON. 

iVfter much jogging, jaming, hurry and worry, we find 
ourselves on board a New York Central through express, 
whirling through the night and along the usually quiet 
Mohawk, between Herkimer hill, towards our destination. 
To-morrow, Providence permitting, we shall reach Fenton s 
Corners and be greeted by loved ones. 

So little Centennial book good night and good by. ‘ Sleep 
little one sleep,’ Rock a baby bye,’ in a car seat.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS’ JOURNAL. — NOVEMBER — 1876. 

VOU dear, old book, I have not come to you for a talk 
since my centennial trip; but I have a sketch of my 
trip and you may read it at leisure. You see my mind is 
more on Merton, and Maud’s and Agnes’s coming visit, 
and so on. I am perfectly happy in Merton’s love, and his 
letters are punctual and delightful; not soft and trashy like 
some young people write. Our letters would not appear 
silly even to a third party; which little thing can not be said 
of every body’s love letters. I suppose he thinks I know 
enough to know he is longing to “ fold me in his strong 
embrace,” without his writing such stuff; and if he did I 
should certainly sicken of him, for when young people get 
“so far gone ” as to write a whole epistle of such nothings, 
it is enough to bring on nausea. He uses a few pet names 
to be sure, but his letters are about his business, his future 
prospects, about friends and news, as any friend’s letters 
might be. He never forgets the spiritual part either, and 
that makes him dearer to me all the time; not much danger 
of my supplanting him with another. Neither do I have a 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS' JOURNAL. 227 

doubt as to our future marriage, for I believe God designed 
us for each other. 

Maud and Agnes will be with me at holiday times, and 
Deo Volente.^ we shall have a joyous season. I do so hope 
Maud may be converted to the Christian faith. Now, what 
is faith ? 

Paul says, “ Faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence of things not seen,” and we know it is one of 
the fruits of the spirit of God. I love Paul. There is a 
great sympathy existing between us. He is so philosophi- 
cal, yet so clearly explaining himself. And I love John, 
the apostle of love; yes, God is love, and John was an 
apostle of God, hence an apostle of love. And he sees the 
love in Christ and preaches a gospel of love. But I am 
talking of faith, dear journal. My definition of faith is 
belief. The little child has faith in its parent. How do 
you know ? Why, it believes its parent; and would always 
do so, if the parent gave no cause for doubt; made no sham- 
mings, used, no deceit. 

Faith is belief. We have faith in God, we believe in 
Him, trust Him, believe His words and expect Him to do as 
He says He will. When He says, “ Ask and ye shall re- 
ceive, seek and ye shall find,” we believe, and we ask, and 
expect to find and receive. Some say they believe God, yet 
they ask and then say they don’t know whether they shall 
receive or not. How is that? Is there not an incongruity 
somewhere ? Are they not deceived by thinking they are 
trusting, having faith or believing, when in reality they are 


228 A SKE TCII FROM A JVJV/S’ JO URN A L. 

not ? “ Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all these 

thinks (worldly necessaries) shall be added unto you/' Do 
you notice the promised blessings are always preceeded by 
a command or condition; if we ask we shall receive, if we 
seek first and more than all the kingdom of God, then we 
are not only to receive it, but He will also aid us to provide 
for the necessaries of this life. Oh, il we would comply 
with His requests, behold the multitudinous blessings all 
ready to flow from His loving hand down upon us, for 
Jesus’ sake; that His name might receive glory upon earth 
as well as in heaven. 

It is the operation of the Holy Spirit upon us that gives 
us the inclination to believe or have faith in God; so let us 
pray for faith and we will receive, according to God’s 
promise, “ Ask and ye shall receive.” Now, if' God’s word 
is true and he is not a liar, then we must believe or expect 
to receive. But if God is not true, then is all preaching 
and believing vain. But God is truth itself and cannot be 
false; henceforth all we need do is believe Him and 
comply with His loving requests. Our hearts, all nature, 
and God’s blessed spirit all agree that God exists and is the 
very culmination of all that is pure, holy and true. Yea, 
He is the very essence of all that is best and purest. Let 
us praise Him now and evermore; for His mercies and 
goodness endureth forever and ever. 

Some say that their faith is weak: dear ones, remember 
this;jr^/^ have no faith except Jesus be in you; then, whose 
faith is it ? Why, it is Jesus’ faith. Can His faith be lack- 


A SKETCH FkOM ^iNNl S' JOURNAL. 229 

ing ? Oh, no. You must exercise your will and ask Jesus 
to let you use His faith in asking the Father for anything. 
Then, it is Jesus’ faith that makes the plea to the Father 
for us; and His faith is complete for all. If we have little 
faith it is because we only trust Jesus a little, for faith is 
but trusting; great faith is only trusting fully and that is 
really believing. O Lord, give us great faith. 

Well, my little friend, I have made out quite a sermon, 
haven’t I ? Never mind, it is all for you and me. Now we 
will talk of old times. How those words open the doors of 
memory, and scene after scene passes before us, like phan- 
tom panoramas, bringing back our school days and even 
our early childhood’s days, when we were ever busy with 
questions and mischief. Ah, yes ! children will be children, 
they were not made old people. These thoughts bring 
back a few stanzas I wrote some time ago. I believe I will 
just jot them down here for reference, when I become 
Mama — Harwood, perhaps. 

REVIEW THE PAST. 

Blessed is the heart of treasures, 

Which speaks in tenderest measures 
Of things and years gone by; 

Gladly we list, as you recall 

Our pleasures past, both great and small. 

When joy and mirth ran high. 

Beginning back to childhood’s days, 

And viewing o’er our child-like ways; 

And things that then were said: 

How oft’ we disobeyed Mama, 


230 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS' JOURNAL. 


Who never failed to tell Papa 
The havoc we had made. 

And Papa sat and heard it all, 

How through the window went our ball 
Shivering pane and sash: 

And once, we were jumping nearer 
When our skip-rope struck the mirror 
And broke it all to smash. 

And when Mama went out one day 
We made a fire, to melt away 
The ice on the doorstep. 

But lo ! the flames they leaped up high. 

And in a terror we stood by. 

While horror round us crept. 

Just then Papa came down the street. 

And saw; then ran, at rate so fleet. 

And quenched the fire: 

Then, turning round in anger white. 

He soon made known the rule of might. 

While we besought our sire. 

But why recall these childlike tricks 
Of love and mischief, such a mix. 

What — what good can it do? 

To yoti lenient and mild 
When speaking of that wilful child. 

Who acts, as once did you. 

I wonder if — they will ever do me any good when correct- 
ing some mischievous, little chick. 

There are some other verses I wish to keep and probably 
I had better copy them here; for no one will ever dare to 
read this; so they will be safe. 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS^ JOURNAL. 


231 


The following drops from my pen, on the pleasant oc- 
casion of the marriage of cousin Nell. 

Merrily O, 

Cheerily O, 

Rang the marriage bell 
For my Young cousin Nell. 

At the home of J. H. Y ’s, 

Some with jokes and some with sighs, 

Guests came from near and far, 

Came by stage, came by car. 

To see Miss Nell marry 

The U. T. K. Morning Herald’s Harry. 

England, Scotland and America were all represented; 

And many beautiful presents to the bride presented. 

One elegant caster and fine, china tea set, 

A silver cake basket, and we would not forget — 

The gold jewelry, and two butter dishes of glass. 

Another of silver, and — take care, my young lass. 

Do you not see those salts, that pitcher, and those spreads. 

Enough to cover three of their very handsomest beds ? 

Besides spoons, knives, lamps, pictures, stone china and money, 

(The latter to buy, I suppose, that wonderful moon-of-honey). 

There were tidies and linen, and others to numerous to mention; 

Suffice it to say, they were many and useful and worthy attention. 
Flowers were profuse, some from Batavia and Warrenville, 111., 

And the wedding cake weighed forty pounds and stood up very high ! ! 
Rev. Scoular, of Hamilton, performed the marriage ceremony, 

And altogether, the wedding was very, very tony. 

The bridesmaid was Miss Lou Young, of this place, sister of the bride, 
And Mr. Mullock, of Toronto, was pleased to grace the other side. 

Their wedding day is over, and however strange to relate. 

They now dwell in Utica, in a doubly United State. 


232 


A SKETCH FROM AN MIS' JOURNAL. 


Wishing them to best success and happiness without alloy, 

I’ll close by saying — I trust the first two’ll be a handsome girl and boy. 

A TRIBUTE. 

Silent are these little lips, 

And closed the sweet, blue eyes; 

For our darling, little Ruby 
Sees and talks in Paradise. 

Folded are these dimpled hands. 

And quiet these little feet, 

For our precious, little Ruby 
Skips along the Golden Street. 

Placid is this marble brow. 

And deaf these little ears; 

For our dearest, little Ruby 
Lists to songs of other spheres. 

Stilled is this little heart. 

Once with love so rife; 

Cut we know our little Ruby 
Glories in eternal life. 

In short, this little house of clay 
Lies resting neath the sod; 

But our darling, precious Ruby 
Dwells in heaven with our God. 

She will not return to us, 

But to follow her, we’ll try; 

That together we may dwell 

Thro’ the long, sweet by and by. 

Two friends of mine corresponded through the press and 
I wish to keep their rhymes. They will be pleasant for 
them and me to read in the future. 


A SKETCH FROM A HAH S’ JOURNAL. 


TO JOLLY BESS OF S. C. NEWS. 

{^By Mrs. W. H. M unroe. ^ 

Good “ Jolly Bess ” your query came, 
Thro’ the columns of the “ News !” 
You wish to know my real name; 

That boon I’ll not refuse. 

I’m just the same old, real self — 

Though ‘‘ time,” I’m often told. 

With fingers rude hath touched my brows 
And streaked the locks of gold. 

Within this breast ever beats 
The same heart, warm and true; 

And now, may I not in return 
Ask, Bessie, who are you ? 

Or, is your name just “ JoHy/’ 

Your mother’s name, Mrs. Bess ? 

And are you Miss or Mr. ? say: 

The truth I cannot guess. 

Are you not some kind maiden fair. 

Who shared my every joy — 

When, in girlhood days, our pleasures 
Were unmingled with alloy ? 

Perhaps you were some sweetheart bold. 
Who sought ’mid hopes and fears 
To win my love ! those days have fled ! 
I’m a bride of twenty years ! 

But even that don’t ravel 
The mystery, no, not any ! 

By this I could not know your name, 

For oh ! they were so many. 


234 


A SKETCH FROM ANN I S' JOURNAL. 


^ But now, please step out boldly, 

The truth you must confess; 

Pray, where are Far View Corners, 

And who is “ Jolly Bess ?” 

TO MRS. W. H. MUNROE, LOVELAND, COL, 

Madam : — 

My name and sex you wish to know. 

And the truth I will confess; 

Changeable I, names come and go. 

There are more than — Jolly Bess, 

In the winter of i8T, 

Clarence, then a little lad, 

Told me his lessons, one by one. 

And at parting we were sad. 

My initials were then but three, 

' J, J, F., all in a row; 

No. I am not a girlhood friend. 

Nor yet, a sad, cast off beau. 

A lady, now of Carthage town, 

S. A. F., is now her sign. 

Answers to the same cognomen. 

Which was once known to be mine. 

But of late I bear another. 

The which you may surely find. 

If you’ll follow my directions, 

Using care to bear in mind — 

, I'm a “ tormentor ” and a tease; 

Supplant the syllable “ lock,” 

In the place of ze, in wheeze, 

And its perfect as a clock. 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS' JOURNAL. 


235 


Now, Far View Corners is a place, 

And I am still yours to guess; 

We report from near and from far, 

While I remain your Jolly Bess. 

REPLY TO JOLLY BESS. 

A thousand thanks ! dear “ Jolly Bess,” 

It seems a thing quite common 
That you should mislead me, — but now, 

Ich kenne deine Namen. 

Mystery no longer hides the truth. 

Though in rebus you confessed it; 

For when I saw your J. J. F., 

How easily I guessed it. 

Though you are not our “ girlhood friend,” 

Nor yet a “ cast off lover,” 

May heaven’s blessings, rich and pure. 

Around your pathway hover. 

Those lessons you so nobly taught, 

Rays from your gentle spirit. 

Within the breast of that dear boy 
Have never lost their merit. 

But on and on, they will ever live. 

His noble powers controlling; 

While time| with stern, relentless hand. 

His ceaseless round is rolling. 

—Mrs. W. H. M. 

OUR ABSENT FATHER. 

Oh, how lonely is our fireside ! 

Since our father sits not there; 

And how cheerless is the window 
Where stands the vacant chair. 


236 


A SKETCH FROM ANNIS' JOURNAL. 


Then the couch and pillows yonder, 

Where he sat many a weary day, 

Now look so very sad and dreary 
Since our father’s gone away. 

But his sufferings now are ended, 

And he has found a home above; 

With God’s redeemed he’s dwelling 
In a land of peace and love. 

“ I hope we may meet in heaven,” 

Were the words so often said, 

And we will strive to heed them; 

Now on memory’s tablet laid. 

“ It is not works alone, my son. 

But faith and trust we need;” 

To this add love, and then, dear one. 

His worthy admonition heed. 

In the casket his loved form rests, 

Bedewed by tears and decked with flowers 

His spirit soars above this realm. 

Yet, mingles here with ours. 

We cannot see the treasured form. 

Yet feel his presence very near; 

We cannot hear those much loved lips. 

Yet do hear those accents dear. 

He may not come the same to us. 

But we may surely go to him ; 

Then “ we shall know as we are known,” 
And see clearly, what now is dim. 

” Death is the door of heaven,” 

So do not weep for friends who die. 


^ SKETCH FROM ANNIS' JOURNAL. 


237 


But say, Oh, God, abide with me. 

And to Jesus arms I’ll fly. 

God loved this world of sinners lost 
And gave for us His only son ; 

Lo ! we will try and bear each cross, 

And humbly say, “ Thy will be done.’’ 

Mercy me ! I have spent so much time copying these. 
But then, perhaps I may take comfort reading them by and 
by. How I do hope I may not have to give up my father 
and mother yet for many years. However, I believe that is 
selfishness on my part, for certainly Christians must be 
happier, by far, in the heavenly home; for just think of 
what a beautiful description the bible gives of that New 
Jerusalem. Besides, what peace and joy to ever be with 
God and his dear redeemed. Oh, yes, it certainly must be 
better to go, when He wants us. “ O Lord, thy will be 
done.” My only brother is there these many years; and 
many others precious to me, and when we are there all will 
be precious to us, for they are precious to Christ. 

Now I must stop writing for to-day, after copying my 

TOKEN. 

To Mr. and Mrs. , 

Of the editorial line, 

In the town of , 

Where the sun doth love to shine. 

Once “ your next door neighbor,” 

I now send you, as I “ ought-ter,” 

Congratulations on the arrival 
Of your darling, little daughter. 


238 


A SKETCH FROM AN NIK JOURNAL. 


May she to you a blessing prove, 

Of heaven’s divinest pleasure; 

Causing your heart to grow in love, 

As you guard and guide your treasure. 
God’s blessing attend your efforts 
To make her gentle, good and pure. 
To be noble in thought and action, 

And for truth’s sake, all things endure. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


‘ * Over the mountains, and under the waves, 

Over the fountains, and under the graves. 

Under floods that are deepest. 

Which Neptune obey; 

Over rocks that are steepest. 

Love will find out the way. 

— Old Song. 

'T'HE year had rolled away; a year fraught with joys and 
sorrows, pleasures and disappointments, much the same 
as other years, but to Annis and Harwood it had brought 
more of happiness than sorrow. 

As stated in a previous chapter, a few days after the anni- 
versary excursion to Chickadee Lake, Harwood departed 
for Colorado, where he again assumed the duties of his busi- 
ness much to the delight of Robert Hastings, who had begun 
to chafe at Harwood’s protracted absence. 

“ Well,” exclaimed Hastings, “ what of your New York 
bird, will she consent to live in your cage and sing you her 
songs ?” 

Merton explained how matters were arranged between 
himself and Annis, to which recital Robert listened, much 


240 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


amused, and when he had finished Robert made a heel and 
toe movement, waltzed around the room and came down 
with a balance step, exclaiming, “Rather eccentric little puss, 
by jove ! Well, I’ll be bound ! Mert, you are almost as 
good as married, for I tell you what, you two, after droop- 
ing and pining all these years, never will leave each other 
now, and take to somebody else, no never !” 

Then assuming more gravity of manner, he walked up to 
Harwood, extended his hand and said, “Mr. Harwood, allow 
me to congratulate you upon the apparent success of your 
enterprise, and also to invite you, most emphatically, to be 
present at the ceremonial climax of mine.” 

“ Thank you, Hastings, for your kind interest and con- 
gratulations, also for your invitation, which I shall, if possi- 
ble, accept with pleasure; however, I shall miss you much, 
after you are married, nevertheless, I most sincerely wish 
you true felicity, happiness and prosperity, during your com- 
ing life,” replied Harwood. 

In due time Hastings was married, and after the honey- 
moon settled down in the place where Harwood resided. 

After Harwood’s return to Colorado, letters had passed 
between him and Annis frequently; letters much cheri.shed 
and valued for their true ring, and not for mere clatter; thus 
the year had passed, and now in Mr. Warden’s drawing- 
room are seated a lady and gentleman, whom we recognize 
as Annis Warden and Merton Harwood. 

“ Annis, my dear,” Harwood is saying, “ the year of pro- 
bation is ended, and now are you willing to make our 
engagement ?” 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


241 


“ Yes, Merton, perfectly willing.” “ That is just the an- 
swer I had expected, Annis, yet it is profoundly satisfying 
to hear you say it,” said Harwood, drawing Annis a little 
closer and raising her happy face; I guess he stamped the 
agreement again, you know it would need to be newly stamped 
after a lapse of a year. 

“Now then,” continued Harwood, “ when can we have 
the wedding day ?” “ I have been thinking,” said Annis, 

“that June is the pleasantest month in the year, and as we 
renewed our friendship in that month, why not have our 
wedding next June, two years from the renewal of our old 
love ?” 

“ That is just the thing,” exclaimed Harwood; “ say we 
have it on the nineteenth, that will be the anniversary to a 
day.” “Very well,” we will, if we can conveniently,” said 
she. “ By that time I shall have my business in Colorado 
either sold out or so arranged that it can be done by my 
overseer. Robert Hastings is desirous of buying me out, 
entering into partnership, or being hired as overseer; he 
likes the business much, so I presume some such arrange- 
ment will be made, as we are both desirous of remaining 
here, at least for a few years,” remarked Harwood. 

Other plans, of no interest to us, were discussed until it 
was decided to give a small party, in honor of their engage- 
ment, which was no longer to be kept a secret. 

None but their most intimate friends were to be invited; 
accordingly a list of names was made out, including Dr, 
Wade, Maud Squires, Agnes and Rollin Welch. 


242 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


The day chosen for the party was the fifth of September, 
that being the anniversary of Harwood’s departure, after 
their partial engagement. 

The day proved propitious for the entertainment and the 
young people decided to make an excursion to Chickadee 
Lake, which they did to the satisfaction of all concerned. 

Maud Squires, Agnes and Rollin Welch had arrived the 
day before; Agnes and Annis had continued as in their 
earlier days, perfect confidants, hence it was, that Agnes 
W’as well acquainted with all the shadows and sunshine of 
Annis’ and Harwood’s friendship; therefore it was with the 
utmost sincerity that she entered in Annis’ joyous and happy 
anticipations. 

Maud Squires was hardly second to Agnes; and Rollin 
Welch having long ago given Annis over and found another, 
whom he some day expected to call wife, very heartily joined 
his congratulations with those of the others. 

So it was that a very happy party entered the grove at 
Chickadee Lake, on this bright autumn day; it was composed 
of young people, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. War- 
den, and Mr. and Mrs. Harwood, the parents of the be- 
trothed pair. 

When assembled at the dinner table, before partaking, Dr. 
Wade in a few appropriate remarks, announced the be- 
trothal of Miss Annis Warden to Mr. Merton Harwood, at 
the close of which Harwood placed upon Annis’ finger the 
betrothal ring, consisting of a gold band set with a single 
sapphire. 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


243 


Thanks were offered, after which the company partook of 
the refreshments, and after which many toasts were offered 
to the newly affianced pair. 

The afternoon was spent as the different ones felt inclined, 
and twilight found the company wending its way homeward. 

Annis’ three guests remained three weeks, during which 
time many picnics, excursions, et caetera, were participated 
in, much to the delight of both Harwood and Wade; the 
latter of whom had become thoroughly enamored of Miss 
Squires. 

According to an agreement made in childhood, Annis 
arranged with Agnes that she should be her bridesmaid to 
stand with a groomsman, whom Harwood should select. 

At the end of three weeks Annis’ guests took their depart- 
ure, leaving her somewhat lonely, although Harwood, who 
remained until the last of October, engaged as much of her 
time as possible. 

It was the last of October, and the trees wore a garb of 
russet brown, relieved with bright tinted hues; the afternoon 
was warm and hazy, birds twittered, and chipmunks and 
squirrels hopped about rustling the leaves that already lay 
upon the moss and fern in the wood. 

Annis and Harwood were taking their farewell stroll, and 
to-morrow. Providence permitting, he would again start for 
Colorado, to superintend his prolific herds. 

“Annis,” said he “ I wish you would send a token of some 
kind to Mrs. Robert Hastings, they would so appreciate it, 
coming from you for whom they seem to have the most 


2-44 


THE AHNOUHCEMENT. 


kindly concern, and besides, they have been so unmistaka* 
bly kind to me.” 

“And so I will,” she replied, “but what shall it be?” 
“ Oh, anything you choose,” said Merton. “ Well then,” 
said Annis, after a moment’s thought, “ I think I will send 
a nice photograph album with our pictures in it, to Mr. and 
Mrs. Robert Hastings, and a book of Irish poems to Mr. 
and Mrs. Patrick O’Brien.” 

“Those will be very acceptable; and I dare say nothing 
would more please Patrick and Bridget than songs of their 
own fairy isle of the sea, the emerald isle, which they adore,’ 
said PTarwood, pleasantly. 

A few moments later Harwood again spoke; “ Annis, do 
you remember that little old rhyme, that runs something 
after this fashion ? 

‘ ’Tis hard to part with those we love, 

’Tis hard to bid adieu; 

But its not so hard to part wjth others, 

As ’tis to part wtih you.’ 

I never felt the force of that, as I do to-day; and were it 
not that duty must come before pleasure, I should feel . in- 
clined to lingei, v/hich would after all, only prolong the 
mi.sery of an inevitable separation, for go I must, sometime, 
and now as well as ever; but darling, how much different 
will be my going now than when first I started for Colorado. 

Then, I had no anticipations that in the future you would 
lovingly confide yourself to me; no loving farewell and 
cheerful words to buoy me up; only the feeling of icy cold- 
ness — , worse to me than an iceberg, to goad me farther on; 
now the sweet assurance of your love — the bright anticipa- 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


245 


tion of a happy future, and the knowledge that with God’s 
permission, I shall return at the end of seven months, to 
call you mine, are all joys to cheer me on in duty’s path.” 

When he ceased speaking Annis looked very sober and 
said, “Yes, Merton, our future bids very fair and we should 
be very thankful to our Heavenly Father for His many 
blessings, and we must be sure to ask His care and protec- 
tion over us in the future. 

There will be one consolation while you are absent, that 
the same sun which shines on you, the same moon that 
smiles at night while the stars watch your slumbers, are the 
same which gladden my heart with their kindly rays; this 
thought will always bring you nearer; while above all, the 
same God, who cares for you, will care for me.” 

“ Thank you, Annis dear, for these thoughts, they will 
always remain with me, and as you say, make you seem 
nearer, and dearer, because we worship the same Jehovah.” 

“ And I hope we may always worship Him in unity and 
purity,” added Annis. “ Merton,” she continued, “ how 
can anyone behold these beauties of nature and still claim 
there is no God ?” 

“ I think they harden their hearts, close their eyes, and 
utter words contrary to their own convictions, either for the 
sake of opposition or argument; however, there may be 
those who sincerely disbelieve, but I cannot understand 
them,” replied Harwood. 

“For my part, I cannot comprehend, how some can attrib- 
ute everything to chance, when to me, there seems to be a 


246 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


great plan, and the most absolute and profound forethought 
expressed throughout the entire creation,” observed Annis, 
and thus they continued talking for some time. 

After a very pleasant and interesting walk, our friends 
returned to the house, where Harwood remained during the 
evening. On his departure Annis accompanied him to the 
gate, where under the blinking stars they took their fare- 
well, although Annis was to see him off the following day. 

Harwood had taken his farewell leave of his parents, to 
be, that evening, and after having passed the trying ordeal 
of sweet-heart leave taking, passed on his homeward way 
with mixed feelings of joy and sorrow. 

The next day was cooler; the sky gray and the wind went 
moaning through the trees, whose leaves fluttered to the 
ground, thus passing away and making room for the com- 
ing generation. , 

Annis drove to the station where she met her affianced, 
and, after a few moment’s conversation, during which she 
gave him the presents for her western friends, with little 
messages for each, the whistle of the incoming train warned 
the would be passengers to make ready. 

Our friends walked to the platform of the rear car, where 
with smiling faces, aching hearts and a pressure of the 
hands, which spoke volumes, the parting words were uttered. 

“ Toot ! toot !” and the train moved onward; Harwood 
tipped his hat, she bowed and both waved their handker- 
chiefs until the train was lost to view, around a curve in the 
road. 


THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 


247 


Annis returned to her carriage and drove homeward with 
a sad heart and gloomy day for companions, but bright an- 
ticipations on in the future. 

This is life; ever fleeting, ever changing, interspersed 
with joys and tears. 

“ Farewell ! farewell is a mournful sound 
And always brings a sigh; 

But give to me that better word 

That comes from the heart, good-bye.” 

“ Adieu ! adieu, we hear it oft’. 

With a tear, perhaps, with a sigh; 

But the heart feels most when the lips move not. 

And the eye speaks thie gentle good-bye.” 

“ Farewell, farewell is never heard 
When tears in the lover’s eye, 

Adieu, adieu, we hear it not. 

But my love good-bye, good-bye.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A WEDDING. 

“ Marriage is a matter of more worth 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship. 

For what is wedlock, forced, but a hell. 

An age of discord and continued strife ! 

Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss. 

And is a pattern of celestial peace.” 

— Shakespeare. 

TinNTER and spring had passed away and summer had 
come. Nature was sweet and fresh in her new 
emerald suit; the air was fragrant with newly blown roses 
and other early bloomers. The heavens were res’onant with 
the merry songs of many birds, and all nature seemed 
joyous and happy. 

It was now the nineteenth of June, eighteen hundred 
seventy eight; the day was perfectly cloudless, and, accord- 
ing to the old adage, none could have proven more pro- 
pitious for the bride’s day than this. • 

A little bustle at cottage de la Grove, indicated something 
unusual and the previous arrival of guests, among whom 
were Maud Squires and Agnes Welch, together with the 
fact, that Merton Harwood had returned from Colorado a 


A IVEDDING. 


249 


few weeks before, led us to conclude the marriage day had 
arrived. 

Occasionally, through the day, carriages reined up at the 
Grove, bringing arrivals from a distance; but about three 
in the afternoon, arrivals became more frequent and con- 
tinued to come until nearly five o’clock. 

At five, in the presence of a hundred invited guests, the 
marriage party appeared, headed by the Rev. J. H. Munroe, 
followed by Miss Agnes Welch and Dr. Arthur Wade, act- 
ing bridesmaid and groomsman; then came Merton Har- 
wood, escorted by his father and mother, followed by Annis 
Warden, escorted by her father and mother. 

The groom-elect was escorted to his place, then his 
parents retired and Mr. Warden proceeded to give away 
his daughter. 

A few well chosen remarks preceded the real ceremony, 
which was brief and conclusive; a few brief moments suffic- 
ing to transform the Miss into Mrs. and the D. D. pre- 
sented to the guests Mr. and Mrs. Merton Harwood. 

Merton saluted his bride, which act was followed by the 
congratulations of the company, and while they are thus 
engaged, let us take a peep at the bridal party. 

Naturally the first object is the bride, who, on this oc- 
casion, is attired in spotless white. Her dress is of some 
thin, airy like material, which, after fitting her slender 
waist most exquisitely, falls to the floor in cloud-like folds 
and puffs, forming a long train. Lace and white satin fill 


250 


A WEDDING. 


their appointed places a la mode. One dainty foot is partly 
seen, encased in a white kid shoe. 

Her well shaped head is crowned with a coronet of white, 
wild flowers, from which falls, in fleecy folds, the bridal veil. 

The groom wears a suit of black with white vest and tie. 
The maid and groomsman are dressed similarly. White kid 
gloves encased the hands of each. 

One fact attracts attention and that is the resemblance 
between the ladies. Agnes and«Annis are both blondes, with 
gentle, blue eyes and features so much alike as to call forth 
comment; and it so happens that both gentlemen are bru- 
nettes, with dark hair and eyes, although dissimilar in other 
respects. 

Congratulations being over, refreshments were served 
according to modern display and custom; after which the 
many beautiful gifts that loved ones had presented as 
mementoes of the happy event, were viewed by young Mr. 
and Mrs. Harwood. 

These gifts were valued more by Annis and Merton for 
the kindly feeling which they expressed, than for their 
costliness, which was no mean trifle. 

In a short time the gueks, having paid their respects to 
Mr. and Mrs. Warden and the newly wedded pair, took 
their departure, save those who were to remain at the cot- 
tage for a time. 

Quite a number of guests remained over night, and it was 
late at night or early the next morning when silence reigned 


A WEDDING. 


25 


and Morpheus cradled in his arms the inmates of Cherry 
Grove cottage. 

The succeeding day some of the guests took their de- 
parture and others remained several days; Agnes being 
among the former and Maud among the latter. 

Annis was sorry to have Agnes leave her so soon, but 
she had spent a week with her before the wedding and felt 
that duty called her home; so Annis could but say farewell 
to her loved friend and see her depart. 

Maud, with her genial ways and sunny face, remained for 
nearly a week and then she, too, departed, leaving her 
friends at the Grove aloiie but happy. 

A week after the wedding found all quiet at the Grove, 
and everything rolled along as before, save that one ray of 
sunshine was missing; the patter of feet that had, for nearly 
twenty-three years echoed along the halls of the Warden home, 
was now silent; the merry song, the gleeful laugh, the cheery 
words, the petit form were gone; the good night kiss that 
invariably rested so lovingly on the parent’s lips was missed; 
in short, the light and joyousness of the household had dis- 
appeared; Annis was gone, and a gloom pervaded the cottage 
which time alone dissipated. 

No wedding tour was taken by our young friends and 
none was desired. After the hurry and worry attending 
the final preparations, Annis felt that she would better en- 
joy herself by remaining at home, which they accordingly 
did, Harwood taking his bride to the home of his parents. 


352 


A WEDDING. 


After a few weeks Annis divided her time between the 
Harwood cottage and her old home at the Grove. 

Here for the present we will leave them, unincumbered 
by the cares of a home and free to enjoy themselves as of 
yore. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


MRS. Harwood’s journal. 

Rose Vine Cottage^ June /p, i88i. 

A /T y dear, silent friend: — Do you remember this is our third 
^ wedding anniversary, and you and I must have a re- 
view of the past and a little chat of the present ? But this 
afternoon we are to go to Cherry Grove and visit Grandma 
and Grandpa Warden; not Annis’ Grandma and Grandpa, 
for they are in the eternal world, long years ago. Aye, some 
are going, some are coming, the former leaving to make 
room for the latter. Our new one is a fine little laddie 
eighteen months old; he looks much like his papa, has dark 
hair and very black eyes; yes, we think he is bright and so 
do his grandparents. Grandparents always do; besides 
most grandparents think the grandchildren are so nice and 
cunning that they ought to do as they please; now I think 
that is entirely wrong. Children who do as they please 
grow selfish, stubborn and disagreeable. We all like best 
those children who are governed; of course it is not pleas- 
ant to correct them, but it certainly is for their good. I do 
not suppose it is pleasant for our Heavenly Father to cor- 
rect us, and sometimes severely; but it must be for our 


254 


MRS. HARWOOD'S JOURNAL. 


good, although we cannot always see it at the time, perhaps 
never, in this life; yet He, in his infinite wisdom, knows to 
what our naughty ways are tending; perhaps we may not 
even realize we are naughty. So it -is with us and our child- 
ren, only in a very small way; we see germs developing in 
the child’s character, which we know will bear evil fruit after 
a time, are we doing the child a real kindness to allow those 
little naughty habits to grow and multiply, and after a sea- 
son spoil his beautiful life ? 

Would it not rather be a true kindness to uproot those 
evils, although, perhaps, sometimes we may have to dig deep 
and cause considerable suffering and many tears and heart- 
aches ? For you know some weeds root deeply, and will not 
die, although the tops are plucked off time and time again; 
but will ever and anon sprout out, sometimes quite unex- 
pectedly, after you have thought them dead. 

This sprouting is not only true of weeds but also of choice 
plants. Who has not given up some pet plant as dead, be- 
cause it was so dilatory in donning its summer dress ? but 
by and by are rejoiced to see it dressing itself and soon 
decked in gorgeous array; or who has not mourned some 
seed planted, as lost, because it did not appear on the sur- 
face as soon as was thought proper ? But lo ! unexpectedly 
it appears, grows quickly and blooms; the germinating pro- 
cess and rooting process were all going on, while we were 
mourning because it was invisible. But when it appears, 
we rejoice even more because of our grief; so our grief 
worked out a greater amount of joy. 


MRS. BAR WOOD'S JO URNAL. 


255 


Thus it is, very frequently, with good seed sown in the 
human heart. We sowers sometimes grieve because we see 
not the good plants growing, and we imagine the seeds were 
false or the ground stony and unfruitful. We think the 
tares are even- multiplying faster than before we sowed the 
good seed; and in our distress we cry out. Oh, my Father, 
help Thou me and help me to do better work. After a sea- 
son w^e are surprised to see the plants far up and maturing 
rapidly: yes, they were getting deeply rooted during the 
invisible period and are now so strong and full of life that 
they speed onward and upward by giant strides. 

My dear friend, never despair in well doing; though you 
do not see results now, they are there, and some time will 
manifest themselves in such a manner as to cause rejoicing 
among the angels as well as upon earth. God’s words can- 
not return void but must accomplish that whereunto it is 
appointed, and He promises to bless the sowers; so let us 
all be sowers as well as reapers, if we find reaping to do; 
we certainly can all be sowers. 

Yes, it is a little sermon but I must preach to some one, 
and why not to you ? Certainly you are sufficiently discreet 
not to be offended. 

Most certainly you shall know our little boy’s name; it is 
Clarence. He is a sturdy little fellow, brim full of love; 
oh, that I may guide him in the paths of righteousness, and 
teach him to love rather than fear God, and to make Jesus 
his bosom friend. 


256 


MRS. HARWOOD'S JOURNAL. 


We were happy before he came, but no home is complete 
without these dear, little, troublesome joys and blessings. 
Yes they are troublesome, for just when you want to sleep 
they are sure to be wakeful; are you sick so are they; and 
they must be cared for; do you wish to visit and take baby, 
he is sure to be fretful and cry at table, so you feel your dar- 
ling is making everyone else miserable; and you wish for 
the wings of a dove so you and baby could fly away and be 
at rest. You seldom wish to fly away without him. No 
matter if they all assure you he does not worry them, you 
are certain he does, but if he were some one else boy at 
your table you would scarcely realize the disturbance. But 
when he coos and laughs and begins to notice things, and 
do funny things, how smart he seems and how proud you 
feel of that child. No doubt he will turn out something 
noble and gra'nd, who could picture him aught else ? Surely 
not a fond, doting parent. 

Oh yes, we love our children,, and do not count the trou- 
bles and cares when caring for them; we realize most our 
pleasure in having the precious, little treasures, with their 
love and sweet companionship. God loves children and 
calls them a blessing. 

We have been house-keeping for two years and it is pleas- 
ant to have a home of one’s ow'n; but it is not always prac- 
ticable; sometimes circumstances seem to require young 
people to live with parents, but I think, as a rule, all parties 
enjoy themselves better if the young people can live by 
themselves. 


MRS. HARWOOD'S JOURNAL. 


257 


But my friend, I think it very advisable to try and make 
the best of everything, and if possible to find the bright 
side of every picture and look at it; keeping your eyes as 
much as possible from the dark side. 

I am striving to lead a Christian life and do a real work 
in the world; but sometimes I get so discouraged, it seems 
I never will outgrow some of my hasty wa57s. You know I 
am very sensitive on some points, and easily hurt or vexed, 
and when vexed, often say what I very soon repent of say- 
ing. This is not as it ought to be, for Paul says Charity 
suffereth long and is kind, and I am afraid sometimes I 
don’t suffer very long before I say unkind things, more than 
I really mean. True, sometimes I can endure considerable; 
I ask God to forgive me, and often kneel before the injured 
one and ask forgiveness. Why kneel ? To mortify the flesh 
or humble myself for wrong. It is no small thing to do and 
for fear any might think I considered them all right, I say 
I do this for Jesus’ sake. He teaches humility, and because 
I have done wrong I will humble myself for His sake. 

I find great happiness in visiting the poor, the mourning 
or the sick. I have learned that true happiness comes from 
striving to make others happy; especially those who do not 
have much happiness. 

If you wish to be happy, truly so, go to some poor being, 
whose life is fraught with care, labor and sorrows; go to 
such, I say, and let the sunshine that is in you, shine out 
upon them, and soon you will see the reflection on their 
hearts, indicated by their faces. When you go from that 


258 


MRS. MAR IVOOD'S jO URMAL. 


visit, there will be something in your heart not found when 
on your way home from selfish enjoyments. I often think 
of, and sing, 

" Do your best for one anbther, 

Making life a pleasant dream; 

Help a worn and weary brother, 

Pulling hard against the stream.” 

That is only the chorus, but the whole of it seems so sig' 
nificant of our duty to each other, I think I will just copy it 
entirely. 

“ In this world, I’ve gained my knowledge* 

'And for it I’ve had to pay; 

Though I never went to college. 

Yet I’ve heard the poets say, 

‘ Idfe is like a mighty river. 

Rolling on from day to day; 

Men are vessels launched upon it, 

Sometimes wrecked and cast away.’ ” 

Chorus. — So then, do your best for one another, 

Making life a pleasant dream; 

' Help a worn and weary brother. 

Pulling hard against the stream.” 

“ Many a bright, good-hearted fellow, 

Many a noble-minded man. 

Finds himself in water shallow. 

Then assist him, if y -u can. 

Some succeed at every turning. 

Fortune favors eveiy scheme; 

Others, too, tho’ more deserving, 

Have to pull against the stream.” 


MA^S. HARWOOD'S JOUrHAL. 


m 


“If the wind is in your favor, 

hxidi you've weathered every squall, 

Think of those, whose luckless labor 
Never get fair winds at alh 
Working hard, contented, willing. 

Struggling thro’ life’s ocean wide; 

Not a friend, and not a shilling, 

Pulling hard against the tide.” 

“ Don't ^ive way to foolish sorrow^ 

Let this keep you in good cheer; 

Brighter days may cofne to^-niorrozu, 

If you //j and persevere'. 

Darkest nights will have a dawning, 

Tho’ the sky be over-cast'^ 

Longest lanes will have a turning 
And the tide zvill turn, at last.” 

Yes, sometime, if not till eternity. Eternity! when c\oe§ 
that begin ? why it begins with the beginning of time and 
continues on after what is known as time, is done away. It 
seems we might define eternity as never ending time; so I 
might better have omitted the last clause and said, yes, 
sometime. Subject for thought— Are we doing our best for 
one another, making life a pleasant dream, (so far as we 
can ?) Are we helping our worn and weary brothers, (and 
sisters too), pulling hard against the stream of life ? Think ! 

Now Annis Harwood, be zealous of good works; keep 
your eyes open and see where you may lend a helping hand; 
it may be just to speak a gentle, loving word or so. Mind, 
words sometimes cut deeper than blows; aye, how many 
times in life have I seen that truth verified. 


26 o 


■ MRS. HARWOOD'S JOURNAL. 


I wish to learn to bear and forbear: to be charitable to 
all; to love everybody, whether agreeable or disagreeable; 
the more disagreeable, the more zealous I must be for their 
spiritual welfare; pray for them and try in all ways to do 
them good. I have tried this somewhat, and find it worth 
while to try it more; it helps remove the dislike. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


A LETTER FROM BURMAH. 

Zeegong^ Burmah^ September — 1883. 
TAear, old Annis:— How I long to see 'you, but as I cannot 
I do my best in looking at your photo. How natural 
it looks and how much it reminds me of those dear, old 
days at Ricksport. In memory, I again walk the streets of 
Ricksport and see I. B. P. and Matilda, and dear, old Prof, 
S., with his smiling countenance. I am again sketching 
familiar faces and scenes; but, alas ! those days are “ lang 
syne,” and I am getting to be an old maid, but not old in 
heart, and thank the Lord, I am happy even out here in 
Asia among the Indians and cobras. Do you know what 
the cobras are ? They are large serpents, who inhabit this 
country and whose head at the top is something like a hood. 
They have a poisonous fang in the roof of the mouth, and 
when attacking, they rear up, raise the hood or open their 
mouth, which appears much like the open palm of a hand, 
from which protrudes the fang, which they strike into the ob- 
ject attacked and which is sure death. I think they are some- 
times even more than four feet in length. They are known as 
the Hooded snake or Cobra de capella. The snake charm- 


262 


A LETTER FROM BURM AH. 


ers go out and blow a pipe or horn of peculiar sound, when 
out pops the cobra from some hole in the ground and 
listens; while the charmer continues the sound and draws 
closer and closer to the snake. When sufficiently near, he, 
by a dexterous movement, catches the serpent by the tail 
and tosses it in air; when it strikes the ground it is some- 
what stunned, and the- charmer catches it, with a decidedly 
firm grip, by the back of the neck. This is the snake 
charmer’s modus- operandi to capture his prize. If the fang 
is extracted the cobra is harmless, but whatever he strikes 
with his fang dies in a very few hours, after intense suffering. 

Lions, tigers (the Royal Bengal inhabits these parts, you 
know,) scorpions and white ants are some of the drawbacks 
of this place; but beautiful native flowers and feathery 
palms and luxuriant vegetation lend a charm not to be 
considered of little importance. Besides, the loving de- 
monstrations of the converted natives is an item which only 
a heartless creature could withstand, without a correspond- 
ing sympathy. 

I love my work and we certainly are doing something for 
the Master. I wish you could see our school; it would 
please you to see the pupils sitting about on mats placed 
upon the floor. That is their custom and you can scarcely 
persuade them to sit in chairs. In fact, when the railway 
cars were first put in here, there were separate cars for the 
natives, who insisted on putting their luggage on the seats 
and rolling themselves on the floor; so the managers had 
the seats removed and racks put up for the luggage and 


A LETTER FROM BURMAH. 


263 


hammocks hung in the middle of the car for infants and let 
the older natives sit on the floor. 

You wish to know how our houses are built, and of what 
material. The material is wood, generally teek, as that is 
the hardest and the white ant does not like to work in it 
much. The white ant is very destructive, often destroying 
houses by working into the timbers and eating and eating 
until they are no better than rotten, being bored full of 
holes and dust. We always keep our trunks raised from 
the floors on account of them, for even one would destroy 
all there might be in a trunk if it set on the floor where it 
could eat a hole through it. 

Our houses are built on posts several feet high, to prevent 
serpents and scorpions from getting inside, and even then, 
once in a while, a scorpion gets in, so we must look into 
everything we put on; but it soon becomes a custom and 
we think no more about it than taking our morning bath. 
The houses have steep roofs, gothic or somewhat so; and 
and very deep verandahs nearly around them. 

Our furniture is heavy, of the English style, made also 
of teek, which somewhat resembles your black walnut or 
mahogany. 

Society etiquette is also quite English as the English hold 
possession and government. But missionaries are recog- 
nized as good society and we try to conform to their 
customs. We are not, however, expected to follow their 
fine style of dress. Miles, here, are not much considered, 
as we often go twenty miles to an entertainment. 


2C4 


A LETTER FROM BURMAH. 


I have visited the place where the Judsons did such 
beautiful work for the Master. They were much beloved 
by the natives, who still care most lovingly for Mrs. Judson’s 
grave, which I saw. He did not die at the same place. 

Annis, pray for us that we may do much for the Lord 
among these poor, ignorant natives. The harvest is indeed 
white and ready for the reapers, but the reapers are still 
few, although steadily increasing. But there are vast fields 
at home and abroad, where the gleaners and reapers and 
sowers must need to work earnestly, perseveringly, care- 
fully, prayerfully, in all places and at all times. “ Blessed 
are ye that sow beside all waters,” Isa. 32:20, for “my word 
shall not return unto me void,” Isa. 55:11. 

Now, Annis Harwood, I must close, but before I sign my 
name I must ask for Mr. Harwood’s and baby Lottie’s 
photos; also Clarence’s. 

Love to each. Sarah Barclay, 

Zeegong, British Burmah, Asia. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


LETTERS. 

What can better fill the place of a far-away loved one, than a letter 
penned by that same loved one’s own hand, and sealed by his lips. The 
heart often speaks more eloquently by letter than the writer would dare , 
face to face. — The Author. 

Rose Vine Cottage ^ August 28, 1886. 
TAEAR Sarah, my sister in Jesus: — May the Lord’s richest 
^ blessings be upon you and your work. I most certainly 
wish I could step into your school-room, and remain with 
you a few days; but how can I, when there are four young 
Harwoods, who deem it their duty and privilege to monop- 
olize their mamma ? 

There is studious Clarence, who was six last December, 
and who is a perfect marvel of intelligence; he reads readily 
in United States History, and is not behind in other corre- 
sponding studies. Of course, we cannot help being proud 
of him. He is no child in judgment nor desires; of all 
things he desires to be a man, and manly. I cannot begin 
to tell you how much of a companion he is to me, besides 
being a great help in caring for the others. Then comes 
frail, little Lottie, a very delicate, quiet child of four; and 


266 


LETTERS. 


then Wellington, a little man of two, and last, as a wedding 
anniversary present for our eighth, came a stout, little miss, 
whom we call Edna. I wish you could see them. Sarah, I 
feel I have a God given missionary work at home; I do 
hope I may always discharge the duty in accordance with 
His will. 

Merton seems to require me more and more; do you know 
it is a pleasure to me, to feel that some one needs me, and 
really depends upon me. I now feel that I am really of 
some use in the world. I must just give you the lines which 
come to me as descriptive of our little babe. 

Little precious fingers, 

Little dimpled hand; 

Fairy little maiden — 

Sweetest in the land. 

Little face all laughing, 

Skin so olive white, 

Little cheeks so rosy. 

Little eyes so brown and bright. 

Dearest little Edna, 

Our darling and our pride; 

' May angels gently guide you, 

“ To a home beyond the Tide." 

The Ricksport school is all changed, and none of the stu- 
dents we knew, are there now. I was in attendance upon 
their memorial exercises of H. W. Longfellow; they were 
very entertaining, but I felt homesick not to see a single 
familiar face among the students. I know you like to have 
my rhymes, so will insert the following: 


LETTERS. 


267 , 


IN MEMORY OF H. W. LONGFELLOW, 

He sleeps, the honored poet sleeps; 

No pain can reach him now; 

Hushed are his heart’s last throbbing beats, 

And placid is his brow. 

He sleeps, the honored poet sleeps, 

His lips are white and still ; 

He rests, while angels vigil keep. 

Obeying his Master’s will. 

He sleeps, the honored poet sleeps, 

While friends are mute with grief; 

He’s climbed the heavenly, pearly steeps, 

Where life no more is brief. 

He sleeps, the honored poet sleeps. 

Who spoke, in life, so sweet; 

He dwells above the starry skies. 

And learns at Jesus’ feet. 

He sleeps, the honored poet sleeps. 

And we will weep no more. 

But strive to live, that when we die, 

We’ll meet on that blest shore, 

I admire Mr, Longfellow’s writings and wish I could have 
personally known him. He was such an admirer of nature, 
I think he must have been a good man. How truly he 
spoke when in his “ Rainy Day” poem he said; 

“ Into each life some rain must fall. 

Some days must be dark and dreary,” 

Yes, I suppose we require the rain as well as sunshine, 
but we usually prefer the sunshine; or — sonshine. Do you ? 
How is Mr, .Aide ? 


268 


LETTERS. 


My letters are so long they must last for a long time. 
Hoping to see you soon, and commending you to the care 
of the Great Spirit, with love, I close. 

Annis Harwood, 

“ Mater familias.” 

Having finished her letter to her Burmah friend, Mrs. 
Annis donned her hat and made a call to a poor, sick lady, 
carrying her some delicacies, but best of all a heart full of 
Christlike love and sympathy. 

The woman was not, at the beginning of her visits, a 
Christian, but gradually the icy like indifference and un- 
reconciled heart began to thaw, and finally there was a 
great breaking up and a yielding up of self to the Maker. 
How rejoiced Annis was when she saw God’s working upon 
this poor, dear friend, who suffered so long, yet tried to be 
patient, resting in Jesus. After her return Annis wrote to 
our friend Agnes as follows; 

Mrs. Martin, Madam: — 

How business-like that sounds; but how I must say, my 
dear Agnes, how I long to once more “ behold your lina- 
ment.’’ Can you in no way leave the nest in care of your 
mate and flit awa’ to me for a season ? Aye, I could come 
to you; but its na easy thing wi’ four, sma’ bairns. Aye, 
four, the last arriving June 19, as an' anniversary memorial. 
It’s Edna. And a girl is a girl for a’ that. 

I have written my friend, Sarah Barclay; I wish you knew 
her. When two ocean currents of equal magnitude and 
and velocity oppose each other, neither can overpower, yet 


LETTERS. 


269 


each forms a break to the other and of a necessity their 
waters mingle, spread out in various directions and soon 
form a smooth sea. And thus it is with the elements com- 
posing the character of my friend Sarah. 

Love of adventure, daring, perseverance, buoyancy of 
spirit and determined will, met by a love for humanity and 
a desire to serve and be controlled by the Supreme Will, 
mingle their forces and blend into one harmonious whole; 
as we find in our missionary friend, at Zeegong. 

“Our days are gliding swiftly by,” and we are nearing 
life’s zenith. Aggie, are you looking forward to that re- 
union of loved ones on the evergreen shore ? How happy 
the thought that, in the “sweet by and by,” there is to be a 
grand reunion of God’s blessed redeemed; there to dwell 
with no dread of a separation. And then, all the beauties 
of that place is thought beyond our most sanguine concep- 
tions; for it hath not entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive of those things which the Lord hath prepared for 
those who love Him. We do love Him, do we not ? Do 
you know I think He blesses us every time we confess to 
our love for Him. Besides, I think He reveals Himself to 
us according to our efforts to please Him, He is certainly 
jealous of our love and service and He ought so to be, after 
the great cost of His love. Jesus loves a cheerful giver 
and the gift need not always be money — far from it. The 
gift of loving words, kind actions, loving service of any 
sort freely given. “ Freely ye have received, freely give,” 
■“ love ye one another, even as I have loved you.” Not 


270 


LETTERS. 


some others but one another — general. Oh yes, His Is a 
gospel of love, and those who serve Him must do a service 
of love. He made Himself a servant for all and and those, 
who would be greatest must be a servant for others. Jesus 
is always pleased, when he sees us trying to do others a 
loving service. Jesus is the son of a King and we are His 
brothers and sisters by adoption, so we are children of a 
king. Yes, we belong to the royal of all royal families; and 
so when we do a mean or disgraceful thing, it is really 
worse than if we only belonged to a low family. Let our 
conduct be in accord with our high station. He commands 
us to be good soldiers. Of what service would cowards be 
in the army ? It would be useless to have soldiers if every 
time the enemy came they threw down their armor and 
surrendered or run. We are soldiers and are to be good 
soldiers; not run, but keep in our armor — Jesus Christ — and 
stand firm, using the sword if necessary. Our sword is to 
be the word of God. That is the very same sword Jesus, 
Himself, used when besieged by the adversary.' 

Aggie, I have a few thoughts copied in my journal for 
reference. They comfort me many times and encourage, 
I will just jot them down for you. 

Trust not in self but in God. 

Cast your soul’s anchor firmly in the Rock — Christ. 

Hope is the buoy of life. Never despond. 

Patience and perseverance overcometh great difficulties, 
/ “ Every cloud has a silver lining.”' 

“ Beyond the clouds the sun is always shining'' 


LETTERS. 


271 


Write your name by kindness on the hearts of the peo- 
ple with whom you daily come in contact, and you shall 
never be forgotten.” 

I desire my monument not to be of cold, unfeeling marble, 
but living, fleshy hearts of the people. Not an epitaph 
printed on the cold marble but stamped by loving acts, in- 
dellibly, on the hearts of those people. Yes, Agnes, that is 
my earnest, living desire. 

Most assuredly you can have my tract on 
OUTCRYINGS OF THE SOUL. 

As I sit in the hush of a Sabbath day’s twilight, looking 
westward, my gaze is fixed on the clouds, which blushingly 
receive the sun’s goodnight kiss. 

The sky is bounded by a belt of light gray at the horizon, 
above which rise heavy puffs of royal hues, purple and gold; 
then come puffs of softer shades, pink and cream; still 
further up they blend into one harmonious tint of mellow 
light, above which, hangs the new moon; so new and yet so 
Old. . 

The earth is white in her snowy mantle and the bare twigs 
of apple and maple sway to and fro in the gentle breath of 
the south wind. 

All at once I feel as if under a spell, caused by the touch 
of some magic wand; my whole being is infused with a 
strange, sweet feeling, and involuntarily my soul cries out. 
Oh God, I thank Thee, I thank Thee for these precious 
moments which open the fount of better feelings and fill 


272 


LETTERS. 


me with love, godlike, and bring me nearer heaven. Which 
opens the well of charity and good will, which seemed so 
nearly hidden and overgrown by the cares and annoyances 
of every-day life.” 

Conscience then whispers, “ What trifles are your trials; 
think of the trials Jesus bore.” Then my soul again cries 
out, “ O, Father, help me to be more and more like thy Son; 
Oh, Jesus, help me and let the Spirit rest upon me !” The 
prayer is answered and “ peace, not as the world giveth,” 
fills my soul. 

Then I commune with myself and find the fount “ of 
living water ” has been opened by a communion with Nature, 
who loudly and plainly bespeaks her Nature’s God. 

Oh, infidel ! how dare you, haw dare you, I say, in the face 
of Nature and conscience and the stern realities of life, pro- 
claim, “ There is no God.” Beware ! Beware ! lest you and 
your theories come to naught. I beseech of you not to say 
such things until you have at least sought earnestly for 
Christ, that you may know by experience; for He says, 
‘‘ Seek and ye shall find.” 

— The Infidel's F7'iend. 

Now, Agnes, I will copy these verses for you. I do not 
know the author’s name. 

“ I see on the-hillside, 

A grave that is new; 

That reminds me to-day 
Of a mother so true ; 

Of a chair that is vacant, 

Of a dear one at rest, 


LETTERS. 


273 


With hands meekly folded 
On a cold, silent breast.” 

' ‘ It is but a few weeks 
Since her form was laid low: 

The sorrows of this earth 
Nevermore will she know; 

The vision has vanished, 

And all is now passed; 

And our mother is safe 
With her Savior at last.” 

" Yes, she has gone — has gone — 

A mother so true, 

So loving and gentle. 

Through heaven’s bright blue; 

We will cherish her memory, 

And sometimes will weep, 

For the one that so often, 

Has rocked us to sleep.” 

“ Yes, we’ll meet that dear mother, 

In heaven above, 

Where there is no parting 
From those whom we love. 

Where circles now broken 
Will gather once more, 

And sing praises to God, 

On that beautiful shore.” 

You see, dear, my letter is so long, I shall need to encase 
it in two envelopes; for you desired all these, so I must 
write them. The next is the tract on 


m 


LETTERS. 


Serving jesus by writing. 

Some dear Christians say, they cannot talk for JeSiiS. 
They are so nervous or timid, etcaetera. Well, if you can- 
not talk (but ask God to talk, when necessary, through you! 
in other words to teach you when and how to talk) perhaps 
you can write for Him. We do not always have desirable 
opportunities to talk, but We can have opportunities to write^ 
Suppose you know some one walking in the Way of sin. 
Write him or her a letter, always asking God to dictate and 
let you write the letter. Pray God’s blessing upon the work 
and continue to pray for the person to whom you write. Tell 
the person to whom you write that you are praying for him 
and beseech him to pray for himself. Place before him a 
God of Love. Yes, God is full of love, yet grieved by sin 
and carelessness. God is ever waiting to take us and bless 
us for Jesus’ sake, if \Ve will only “come “ and “ask ” we 
shall receive. Inclose a few tracts appropriate to that indi- 
vidual. 

Ask God and if He wants you to, write more than once. 
Be sure to continue praying, and trusting God\.o do xRi^good 
7vork. Now look about you for the back-slider, treat him 
the same Way; not forgetting to pray for him. Must you 
stop now? Oh, no. The Christian likes your prayers and 
encouraging words and perhaps you can cheer him on, in 
“ The Good, Old Way.*’ 

Are you too timid to have your name go about so much ? 
Well, just sign “A Christian Friend,” or “ Yours in Prayer,” 
or something appropriate. God knows whose work it is and 


LETTERS. 


m 

it really makes no difference to the receiver so long as the 
truth is presented to him. 

Have you no money for stamps ? Ask God, tell Him all 
about it, and if he you are not selfish He will open the 
way for you. “ Ask and ye shall receive.” 

Have you no time for such work ? Read a little less in 
the newspapers, and in the latest book; make a few less 
calls, and though you are tired, do^ please., Write a few words 
for Jesus; dear Jesus, who did so much for you. It will 
rest you and make you happy. Remember Jesus is always 
at your side — ever present with you. For He says, “ I will 
never leave you nor forsake you.” He abides With you and 
knows the veriest trifle you do for Him, and is so pleased. 
Blessed be His Name evermore. “ Bless the Lord, oh, my 
soul, and forget not all His benefits.” 

Oh, yes, this is a grand, a glorious work for Jesus ! Aye, 
grand. Eternally Grand ! And every little deed or word for 
Him, is like a stone cast into the water, making ripples which 
go rippling on over the great sea of Eternity. 

Therefore, do something for Jesus; that the sweet words 
may echo and re-echo through all the eternal ages, and web 
come you on the other shore. 

You see, dear, I am not idle; I am engaged in letter 
writing, composing, or something for Jesus, when not en* 
gaged with home duties. Ladies often say, “ I should think 
you would have lots of time for fancy work, or to practice 
music, or make calls;” when, to tell the truth, I do no fancy 
work unless it may be some little gift; scarcely practice 


276 


LETTERS. 


music at all; and make so few calls I sometimes think people 
will think me unsocial and self satisfied, when really I am 
not, but dearly love company, especially Christian company. 
But I have this comfort, ‘‘Man looketh on the outward appear* 
ances, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” He knows I 
am really many times depriving myself of the pleasure of 
society, to accomplish some little work I think may be pro-' 
ductive of good. 

“ Little drops of water, 

Little grains of sand, 

Make a mighty ocean 
And the beauteous land.” 

The sculpture never brings out his designs by one, great, 
mighty effort; but with chisel and hammer he chips the 
block, again and again, until at last the design stands out 
beautifully complete. So we cannot build our edifice for 
the Master by one, great effort, but must be content to lay 
a stone nowand again, and, by His loving, finishing touches, 
the work will be completed at last; and His name glorified 
by our continued constancy and loving perseverance. But 
to do this we must continually ask Him to give us this con- 
stancy and perseverance and a desire for His service. For, 
except we abide in Him and He in us we can in no way 
build or bear fruit to His glory. Yes, He is the Vine, we 
are the branches and must draw our life current directly 
from Him. 

Agnes, this is the thirty-first anniversary of my birthday. 
How years roll by ! Ten years to-day since that pleasant 
occasion at Chickadee Lake, when I was one and twenty. 


LETTERS. 


277 


When Merton asked me to become his wife. Do I regret 
it ? No, indeed. He is a kind, loving husband, who en- 
deavors to. aid me in the Christian life and make my life as 
agreeable and happy as possible. He considers me his 
equal and treats me as such. I could not be happy if he 
did not, for I cannot endure men who are so self conceited 
and treat their wives as slaves. Do you know I once wrote 
an article on that subject? Yes, I did long ago; and here 
it is for your entertainment. 

DOMESTIC SLAVES. 

“ Well ! It kindah seems to me that these ‘cruel, slavery 
days,’ that we hear so much prate about, haint entirely 
things of the past, although generally considered so. Fur 
my part I know of a good many who’re pinned down to a 
dog’s life and in many respects have very little more enjoy- 
ment or liberty than the darkies of years ago. Unless they 
fight for it, ur, what aint much better, have a reg’lar old 
jaw over it. Cause somebody else happens to think they 
no business to do anything ’nless its somethin’ ‘that’ll pay,’ 
or to wait on them or some of their relations. And as fur 
havin’ anything more than the bare necessities of life; its a 
thing beyond the bounds of jurisprudence and never to be 
tolerated.” 

The above words were uttered in no gentle manner by 
by uncle Kenneth, whose generally, gracious spirit was 
kindled in anger by the continued unkind treatment of 
his daughter, whose husband, although known to the 
world as a fine man, was, in reality, a petty tyrant. The 


278 


LETTERS, 


entire family felt that Sarah Jane (that being her name) was 
little less than a drudge; and no sooner had uncle Kenneth 
ceased speaking, than aunt Priscilla, his maiden sister of 
fifty summers, felt it her bounden duty to fire her shot at 
the masculine gender, and accordingly, piped out; 

“ ‘ Them is my sentiments, tew;’ we hear a tremendeous 
lot about the poor slaves of the seouth an’ of course they 
wur poor an’ fur my part. I’m glad they’re free. But why 
don’t we hear suth’in sed about the poor wimmen slaves of 
the north; an’ as fur that matter, all over Christendom an’ 
part ov Canada, as the ole sayin’ is. Now there’s Sarah 
Jane; how much better off is she ’n the wenches of the 
seouth. Of course she has a comfertable — no not that 
either; but one might say she has a comfertable, uncomfer- 
table home. Fur the home would be comfertable ’nough if 
’twasn’t made so tarnal uncomfortable by the inmates. Thare 
she works day arfter day with three younguns tied to her 
heels ’n what dus she git fur pay? Kind words ? No, sir-ee; 
not a bit ov it; ur if they be, they’re as few an’ fur between 
as hen’s teeth. ^ And generally ur used to git some new 
waitin’ on an’ ur soon followed by a good blast, so that her 
poor heart nigh breaks, that she ever knew what kind words 
wur; fur if she hadn’t she wouldn’t feel the difference so 
much between what she hears an’ what she might ’ave hearn. 

Rile, could make her perfectly happy if he had a mind- 
ter, but he won’t, the miserable dog. Then he twits her if 
any ov her frens go ter see her an’ treats ’em so careless- 
like, they don’t care ter go again, an’ wouldn’t if twant fur 


LE TIERS. 


279 


Sarah Jane, poor child. An’ he calls her folks by all the 
mean names he can think uv, an’ her tew as fur that matter, 
an’ when there’s any one else round he’ll pertend to be so 
awful nice, you’d think him a perfect pattern of goodness 
itself. O, I detest such hypochricy. 

An jus’ think how he treats her about money matters; 
blows her up like Cain if she furnishes for church parties, 
when its her turn; and never ’lows her to sign anything fur 
any purpose, what-so-ever; an’ never ’lows her more’n a 
dime or nickle to drop inter the conter-bushen box ov a 
Sunday. 

Beside, look at her clo’es, think ov what she had when 
she was married an’ now she’s only got one suit to wear fur 
real dress up; and he even carries the purse when she occa- 
sionally goes tew the store tew buy the cottons, she must 
hev. 

She seldom goes inter society now an’ what’s the conse- 
quences ? Why she’s just loosin’ all her eddication an’ pol- 
ish, that you worked so hard to give her. She wus fitted to 
shine in company, but she’s jist rustin’ all over, and not 
shinin a bit; so now where’s the good ov your eddicatin’ her ? 
Not a bit ov it, an’ I told you so in the time ov it.” 

At which ejaculation Pricilla gave her head a yank, as if 
to say, what can you say to that, and rested. 

“ O well,” replied Uncle Kenneth, “ Sarah Jane may grow 
rusty but the gold is thare jist the same; and if she’s ever 
thrown on her own resources, after some scrubbin’ up, she’ll 
be able tew make use of it, tew.” 


28 o 


LETTERS. 


“Well, well! fur my part I consider it foolishness tew 
lay so much by an eddication; girl’s will marry, that’s all 
they know, when they could live like queens at home an’ be 
free from cares if they’d stay in single blessedniss; but now- 
a-days they must marry an’ be drudges, an’ the money spent 
fur to eddicate ’em is wasted,” replied Pricilla, with much 
assumed dignity. 

“To be sure she married when she thought she had a 
good chance, und all the girls ud do that if they got the 
chance; but that don’t signify, a man needn’t be a tyrant 
when he can jist as well be a man, und make himself und 
family happy.” 

Pricilla, thinking herself slurred by Uncle Kenneth’s last 
speech, did not deign a reply, and both relapsed into silence* 
So will I dear Aggie, with much love. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


SKETCHES. — DECEMBER 31, 1887. 

1 \ T Y dear, long neglected journal. My last entry was made 
last April 23d, and reads, “ Our dear, little Clarence 
is very, very ill.” So he was, but not now; our darling is 
now where pain and sickness never come; aye, in the beau- 
tiful Eden of rest — how sweet that word sounds. But, oh, 
how we miss him; it all seems so strange, so strange. We 
have our friends, but in a moment they are gow^^gone^ gone. 

At first it seemed as if my heart was torn asunder; 
how could the Lord afflict so, when we loved Him and tried 
to do His service. But soon the Comforter came and I saw 
it was no worse for me to lose my darling’s comely presence, 
than for other mothers. No need to spare my heart this 
trial, which should teach it to yield in all things, more than 
other hearts. My heart is no better than others, that it 
should not suffer all that others suffer. For if we are not 
chastened we are none of His, “ For whom the Lord loveth 
he chasteneth\ and scour geth every son whom he receiveth.” 

So, by this we shall know we are His children. No 
chastisement is pleasant, but worketh out the peaceable fruits 
of righteousness unto those who ^re rightly exercised thereby. 


282 


SKETCHES. 


So, God helping me, I will try to be rightly exercised by 
this trial, that I may run with patience the race that is set 
before me, God never corrects nor afflicts except in love. 
Besides He did not remove my darling and pride without a 
purpose, and a wise one to. Probably he had need for him 
up there in the new Jerusalem. That brings to mind one 
of Longfellow’s poems. 

“ ‘ My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay,’ 

The Reaper said and smiled; 

‘ Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where he was once a child.’ ” 

“ ‘ They shall bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by my care, 

And saints upon their garments white 
These sacred blossoms wear.’” 

“ And the mother gave, in tears and pain, 

The flowers she most did love; 

She knew she should find them all again 
In the fields of light, above.” 

“ O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Reaper came that day; 

’Twa^an angel visited the green earth. 

And took the flowers away.” 

Yes, it was in tears and pain I gave the treasure back to 
Him who gave it me seven years before. It was April 24th 
he slipped through the gate so quickly, so silently, just giv- 
ing a little, tiny sigh as he left mb at the gate; for I went 
with him to the very gate, and then he just slipped through, 
and I was left with my dear ones here. Death just seems 
to me like a portal of heaven, and all that separates us from 


SKETCHES. 


283 


those in heaven is the vail that covers the portal. Oh, they 
are so near, so very near to me, and I think they are with 
us; only not visible to mortal eyes. For they are to be 
similar to God and He is a Spirit and everywhere; with us 
and everywhere else; not limited to localities, like mortals. 
So, why are not our departed friends with us even as He is. 
This thought is a great comfort to me. How calmly I write 
now; then it seemed as if I never could act reasonably 
about it. But the storm passed and the calm has come as 
it always does; and now I am resting, quietly resting; and 
Jesus, who says, “ I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,” 
holds me close to His own loving heart. 

Merton was terribly shaken, as was I. It was so sudden; 
he only complained three short weeks and did not seem 
very ill until the day before he left us. But our comfort 
and joy comes from the same source, and that is a great 
comfort to me. 

Perhaps, unconsciously., we were letting our pride, our 
dear boy, come between us and Jesus. He was so bright 
and we planned so much for him in the future; but “ God’s 
ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts.” 
He is wisdom, we are feebleness. As the eagle stirs up her 
young, destroys the nest, crowds her young off the ledges 
and lets them drop down in the abyss, then swoops under 
them, catches them on her broad wings and bears them up 
again; repeating the action to teach them to fly; so, the 
Father sometimes lets us down into the abyss; but if we, 
like the young eagles, will rest on our . Parent’s strength, we 
shall come up again and be all the stronger for the exercise. 


284 


SKETCHES. 


One thing helped me much; it was in the beautiful spring 
and nature spoke so cheerfully of the new life, the resurrec- 
tion from decay; and kept me reminded of his new life, 
with all its beauty, fragrance, buoyancy; charming, glorious- 
ly so, and everything fairer and more fully complete than 
anything which I could conceive; that it seems to soften 
the barb, and the Oil of Life healed and soothed the wound. 

Human friends may be kind, lovingly so; but at such 
times the greatest comfort comes from being alone with 
nature and Jesus. Our dear parents were sorely afflicted 
with us, for it was their loss too; yet they tried to help us 
bear the trial like submissive children, saying, “ Thy Will, 
O Lord, be done.” How sweet it was to have an earthly 
father and mother to condole with, to unburden the heart 
to. During the funeral these words came to me, “ O, God, 
my faith looks up to Thee and there our darling stands;” 
and from them I afterward wrote the following: 

OUR BUD OF PROMISE. 

Oh, God ! my faith looks up to Thee 
And there our darling stands; 

He has gone to dwell with Jesus, 

And joined the angel bands. 

Our bud of hope, so early blown 
Into a rose of purer dye; 

Transplanted from its earthly home 
To be matured on high. 

Now rescued from the chilling blasts 
Of sorrow, sin and pain; 


SKETCHES. 


285 


Our hearts sorest, severest loss, 

Is hi,? eternal gain. 

Let me feel his presence near me, 

And see his shining face; 

Let him guide me thro’ life’s journey 
Imparting heavenly grace. 

Let him walk beside his mother. 

Filling her heart with joy; 

May she feel, although in heaven. 

He is still, my darling boy. 

May he hover near his fath’er. 

And comfort sweet impart; 

May he lead him ever nearer. 

To that rest of mind and heart. 

Be thou near us little Clarence, 

Fill our hearts with peace and love; 

Guide us to the loving Father — 

To the Eden bright above. 

Then when earthly cares are ended 
And life’s trials all are o’er. 

We shall rest, so sweetly happy. 

On that endless, golden shore. 

Now forgive us Holy Father, 

And heal our heart’s great woe; 

Help us to bow humbly, before 
The God, who willed it so. 

Three precious children He has still left us, and I do so 
hope to lead them in the path of righteousness, and teach 
them to love Him, who first loved them and whose love ex- 


286 


SKETCHES. 


ceeds even that of a mother. Only to think of that — exceeds 
even that of a mother — why it seems almost impossible to 
us feeble minded. Yea, His children are to Him as the ap- 
ple of his eye, so precious, so tender, and so much to be 
cared for and guarded. 

What could I do, how could I endure, were it not for the 
gracious promises and tender messages contained in His 
word ? They are many, upon many, and so gracious, so 
sweet and restful. If I could only persuade all, to try this 
dear Saviour of mine. 

“ Come to the Saviour, make no delay, 

Here in His word He’s shown us the way; 

Here in our midst He’s standing to-day. 

Tenderly saying, ‘ Come !’ 

Joyful, joyful will the meeting be. 

When from sin our hearts are pure and free; 

And we shall gather, Saviour, with Thee 
In our eternal Home.” 

I love to sing that, for I am often thinking of that happy 
re-union, when we shall be free from all the fetters of sin 
and sorrow, and be gathered in that beautiful home of rest 
and happiness with all of God’s redeemed. Sometimes I 
almost long to flyaway to that other and more perfect home, 
but my loved ones seem to need me here a little longer. 

To-day is the last of the year of 1887; like all of its prede- 
cessors, it has been fraught with pain and happiness. 
How little, a year ago this time, did we expect one of our 
birdies to be in paradise to-day. We do not know, and how 
well it is we do not know, the future. I would not for any- 


SKE TCHES. 


-287 


thing know it, if I could, not do anything to change it. 
And then who would wish to manage things in that way; it 
would wear us finites out in a short time, if we had such 
terrible strain as would come with trying to bring about 
events as we deemed best; besides, with our judgement 
what extreme failures; oh, how much easier and better to 
consign everything to the care of the All Wise and. Infinite 
Father, resting assured all things work together for good to 
those who love God. 

To-night, as I write for the last time in my journal in the 
.year 1887, I would consecrate myself anew to Jesus; all that 
I am or hope to be and all I have. Lord Jesus, I thank 
Thee for the blessed, abiding presence of. Thyself with me. 
For months now, I feel Thee always present at my side and 
no more feel that I am alone; oh, the love that burns in my 
inmost heart for Thee — Thou blessed of all blessed friends. 
Well may the bible call Thee— Friend, Brother, Husband, 
Father, and best of all Saviour. Truly Thou art all that is 
precious, truest, sweetest; ah ! I cannot begin to find words 
to express my feelings and can only add: Thou art my All 
in All, my Alpha and Omega, and the One 1 desire more 
than all others. Once more I thank Thee for all Thy pre- 
cious promises and Thy letter to us — the bible. 

Keep us evermore in the path of righteousness, and by 
and by gather us with Thine own redeemed, and Thy name 
shall be praised ever more. 

After Mrs. Harwood finished her journal, she wrote seve- 
ral letters, from which we have the following extract: 


288 


SKETCHES. 


■*' * * Yes, Sarah, I will try and interest 

my friends in your missionary work. I attended one of the 
Baptist Missionary Societies recently and interested them 
by reading some of your letters. They will be delighted to 
meet with you when you visit me. I also told their pastor 
of your desire for a preacher, and do hope they will, at least, 
aid in the support of such a helper to your field. I have 
sent some of your letters to Ricksport to some of the 
friends there; I really think so long as you joined the church 
there, they ought to lend you a helping hand. 

I think you said anything sent to you for the work should 
be sent with your address, to the Woman’s Baptist Mission- 
ary Bureau, of Boston; that they would forward it safely to 
you, as you worked under their direction. I suppose every 
little would be welcome, if it was no more than a dollar, or 
even a fraction of it; neither do I suppose a hundred would 
come amiss. But prayers should accompany every mite, as 
also the larger sums. 

How unfortunate that some think if they have no money 
to give, they can give nothing. Prayers are quite as essen- 
tial, and God alone knows the many blessings granted in 
answer to the prayers of the poor; poor in worldly goods, but 
rich in God’s kingdom, rich in faith. Oh yes, money is nec- 
essary, (and some have it to give), but so also is prayer in 
faith — believing,not doubting. We are commanded to pray. 

How strange, some think they cannot pray. Praying is 
only talking earnestly, reverently with God, as you would 
with a respectable, human being. It is not necessary to use 
certain words and get into some particular attitude. 


SKETCHES. 


289 


God can hear as well if you are standing, sitting or even 
lying, as if kneeling; of course it is respectful to God to 
kneel sometimes, but it is not necessary to do so in order to 
obtain His hearing. 

Do, Sara'h, teach these things to your pupils and get that 
idea of formalism out of their heads as soon as possible. 
Oh, dear, what a pity more in our country can not get only 
so far, but are continually bound by some forms or other. 
God does not want great ceremonies, but wants spiritual, 
truly heartfelt worship; He wishes to be social, intimately 
so. Having us unburden our hearts to Him as we would 
to our most confidential friend; aye, even more, for He sym- 
pathizes with us in every detail of life. God is not above 
the littlest things that concern us, but is really interested 
in every thing which influences us in any way, and will aid 
us in doing the smallest item of duty. 

Another thing in which we often fail, is in thankfulness, 
or praising God for the blessings bestowed; we would con- 
sider it rude in the extreme, if an earthly friend bestowed 
favors upon us and we did not acknowledge them by even 
a “ thank you.” But many favors and great blessings are 
often received from God, without as much as a “ thank you,” 
in return. 

Again, we are very apt to decide matters of importance 
without asking our Father’s advice or guidance. How un- 
wise this is, when He is All Wise and knows just what is for 
the very best, and we know so little. We ought always to 
ask His direction and then not willfully set to have our own 


SA^£ TCI/E S. 


290 

way, but be led by circumstances, for He will guide the 
circumstances, if we trust Plim, for the best results, although 
not always in the way we may think best at the time; per- 
haps we may not think they seem the best, but we know 
they must be best when all things have been considered as 
He considers them; and we should rest content, although 
we seem to be at a disadvantage for the present. 

Oh, if we could only remember that all things work to- 
gether for good to those who love the Lord, how much fret- 
ting we would save ourselves. 

I will send those lines you wished for that departed (riend. 

LINES ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 

It was in the bright month of October, 1887, 

Tnat our dearest Clara passed from earth to heaven; 

She departed on the ninth, and on the eleventh day 
We laid her loved tenement in Maplewood, away 
To rest — so sweetly — until the resurrection morn, 

When free from pain and sorrow, among the heavenly born 
It shall awaken, as Gabriel calls the quickened dead to rise 
And come forth to meet Jesus, triumphant in the skies. 

And why should we not lay the clayey house away 

When its loved occupant has flitted thro’ the pearly gate, to stay ? 

It was, oh so precious to us, because she once dwelt there. 

But now she does not need it, “ She has climbed the golden stair;” 

She has passed beyond the portal, to the streets of golden pave. 

She still lives the life immortal, which her Saviour freely gave. 

What mean these sobs, these sighings, these cheeks, with tears a’ wet ? 
She is not dead — she’s living — the sun for her shall never set. 

She has done the labor, borne the cross, and laid the burden down. 

She has won the victory, found a rest and wears a starry crown. 

Here the sky is dark, rain is falling, the day is drear and cold; 


SA'£ TCHES. 


29! 


There the sky is clear, the sun is shining, the day is bright as gold. 

Here leaves are dropping, flowers dying, we see naught but decay; 

There life is springing, flowers blooming, ’tis the resurrection day. 

Now we cannot understand, life seems fraught with gloom. 

By and by we shall know, when we have passed beyond the tomb. 

For weary feet await the street of wondrous pave and golden; 

For hearts that ache, the angels wake the story sweet ‘ olden.’” 

So listen, my friend, oh, listen ! ’Tis the voice of thy God, 

“ I love thee, T love thee, pass under the Rod.” 

Now dear friend I will finish this epistle; it is the last I 
shall write in the year eighteen hundred eighty-seven. Hop- 
ing some of the thoughts may aid you, and trusting the 
Lord to bless my feeble efforts for my fellow creatures, and 
desiring the prayers of yourself and Christian friends, I will 
bid you a loving^ good night, and give you my best wishes 
for the now near, New Year’s, richest blessings and suc- 
cessful endeavors. God keep and sustain us all evermore* 
Amen. 


A. W. H. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE CONCLUSION. 



HEN I have read a story, I always like to know at its 


conclusion, what has become of its principal charac- 
ters. Judging my readers have the same curiosity, Twill 
endeavor to inform them, according to the best of my ability. 

It is now about ten years since the Harwood wedding 
took place, and it will be necessary for us to travel some- 
what, in our fancy, that we may find the friends whom we 
have met in this narrative. 

To find that fun loving Sarah Barclay, with her odd 
jokes, it will be necessary to cross the sea, to Zeegong, Brit- 
ish Burmah,Tndia; here we find her engaged in missionar}?- 
work; she is somewhat changed, commanding much more 
dignity of manner, although the same vein of fun infuses 
her very being. 

Mary De Lion, a friend met at Ricksport, is the wife of a 
merchant of Fenton’s Corners. 

Now we hie away to the “American Italy,” and here we 
find Leon Ashley, retired from mercantile life, living on a 
beautiful farm, and that lady you see through the window. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


293 


with a baby in her arms, is his wife, holding their little 
Gracie. 

George Blaine is still single, but Bert Wilder is married > 
and a little girl, scarcely two years old, is prattling about 
his door. 

• St. Albertson, like most of Annis’ other friends, is mar- 
ried, and resides at H , Ontario, where the natives sing,' 

“ God save the Queen,” with as much enthusiasm as we sing 
“ God save the State.” 

Fannie Loomis, Annis’ centennial friend, has gone to the 
world beyond. 

Maud Squires is single and still lives to be blessed by her 
many appreciative friends, Dr. Wade not excepted. 

Aunt Sophia Lee continues to give her annual parties, 
which Annis and Merton rigidly patronize. 

To catch a glimpse of Agnes Welch it will be necessary 

to make a trip to L . We will call at this rather ancient, 

although still stately, domicile. Allow me to introduce Mrs. 
Agnes Martin, — ah ! but what does this downy crib with its 
snowy coverings contain ? 

Oh ! I see, a plump little girl hard twelve months old. 
What a handsome child ! aye, handsome indeed, as she 
smiles in her sleep; must be angels hover near her in 
dreamland. 


Pink cheeks, rosy lips, and shining brown hair; 
Forehead white as marble, not a shadow is there; 
Sleep little one, sleep. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


294 

. The Mr. Wardens’ and senior Harwoods’ reside as before; 
while last, but not least, Mr. and Mrs. Merton Harwood 
must be called upon. 

We will find them in a handsome villa in the suburbs of 
a large town in northwestern New York. Their surround- 
ings are very agreeable; on entering the house you are 
ushered into the drawing-room, which is of medium size, 
and whose furnishing exhibits culture and refined taste; 
the entire house is in harmony with this room. 

The mistress enters, and we easily recognize our friend 
Annis, although she is somewhat more staid in her demean- 
or, and the freshness of youth is partly faded from her face; 
but the eyes are the same expressive ones of yore. 

Mrs. Harwood greets you in a warm and courteous man- 
ner, and after a few moment’s conversation, you discover 
that her intelligence and culture have not diminished, but 
rather improved, as she devotes her spare time to study and 
literary pursuits. 

Four bright children are brought in for you to see, and 
you find them neatly dressed and well behaved; two boys 
and two girls, the last a tiny boy, yet in long robes, who is 
a perfect image of his mamma. 

After a pleasant call we take our departure, and as we 
leave the Harwood villa, we bid adieu to Annis and Merton 
Harwood, leaving them to pursue their future, without pub- 
licity; wishing them well, and commending them to the care 
of an All Wise and loving Father. 


THE COATCL USION. 


295 


Dear reader, before withdrawing from your presence, 
allow me to say a few words in my own behalf. I most sin- 
cerely thank you for accompanying me through the various 
labyrinths of this story, and if by its recital, I have aided 
you in gaining a new thought, to indulge in serious reflec- 
tion, to exert your never dying influence for good, to raise 
your motto higher and strive with energy to obtain eternal 
truths, while beguiling your moments of leisure, my object 
is fully attained. 


THE END. 



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